Favorite
by Loonynamelass
Summary: NewGen. James S. Potter's life isn't as perfect as it seems from that snapshot epilogue. What with juggling the pressures of puberty, siblings, & cliques, he simply can't fathom how he'll survive 3rd-year! Ch 1's a one-shot, but the rest is not. Complete!
1. Favorite

**_Disclaimer: The characters Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley and settings Hogwarts, the Hogwarts Express, and King's Cross Station belong entirely to J.. The short descriptions of James, Lily, and Rose in the epilogue that inspired this also belong to J.. The interpretations and plots and characterization and story itself, however, belongs in to me._**

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Favorite, Chapter One.

**"Saying 'I love you' has nothing to do with meaning it." ~Through With You_, Songs About Jane_, Maroon 5**

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I held to the rail of the Hogwarts express, whooping and fooling around and enjoying the rambunctious atmosphere of the King's Cross Station, and glanced impatiently at my little brother. He was still talking to Dad, and Dad was comforting him for some unimportant fretting.

My exhilaration shriveled up and died.

Who was there to help _me_, when I was worried about houses? Not Dad. Not Mum either.

There's not really anything in particular that they don't like about me. It's just that they like Lily and Albus _more_. Dad sympathizes with Albus because Albus has Dad's green eyes, and Dad subconsciously infers that Albus takes after himself on the inside. Lily's the youngest and only girl of three siblings, so Mum feels a connection.

And what about James, the firstborn son, named after an arrogant, troublemaking grandfather?

Oh, he'll take care of himself. He'll be fine.

Surely it wasn't _always_ this way. Surely there were two precious years, before Albus was born, that Dad and Mum looked upon me as their little angel, their prized boy, theirs to protect and care for.

So what was it, then? A surplus of children or a shortage of parents?

Whatever it was, there was a problem with the manufacturing agency that spat them all out, and I would just have to deal with it.

Oh, deal with it I did. I dealt as well as could be expected, really. I looked at the situation, turned it over in my mind. And, in the deft way of the prepubescent child, I extracted the advantages and milked them for all they were worth.

Eldest. Less attention means less surveillance, and therefore less limits and more freedom. Freedom to do whatever I want. The parents will never know; if they do find out, it'll be too late; if it's not too late, their attention will wander soon enough and I'll be free again.

But there was still that thing that shriveled up and died in me on that day, the eve of my third year at Hogwarts. I was no longer that innocent, prepubescent boy anymore. And I could no longer be so ignorant or naïve.

Independence is hard. There was that moment, hanging on the rail of the Hogwarts Express, that I stood there and it hit me. My lifestyle was unsustainable. Because no matter how much I could tell myself that freedom was better and that my only parents were the Marauder's map and the invisibility cloak (both taken from Dad's cloak, as he probably took it from his Dad), there was that annoying part of me that wanted to throw away all the things that I had earned, my popularity, my mischievous joy, and that just wanted the love and pride of Mum and Dad. There was that core of honesty that was showing through, as my smile drooped and my face fell and in one abrupt motion I ceased my swinging.

But such parts can be suppressed. Ask anybody, Draco Malfoy or the original James Potter, and they'll recount to great lengths of how honesty and sweetness can be suppressed.

I mean, I had to look at what had just happened. That part of my shone through just for an instant, and in that instant my happiness went kaput.

At age thirteen, when you want popularity and comfort and ignorant bliss above all else, you certainly don't let things happen inside you that make your happiness go kaput. At age thirteen, when so much that goes on inside you is beyond your control, you certainly will control what is within your reach.

So I resumed my swinging, I resumed teasing Albus and Lily about houses and thestrals (after all, they get enough spoiling from our parents; I've got a duty to toughen the little suckers up!), I resumed my pranks and joys, and I resumed the enjoying and milking of my popularity. I resumed my happiness, and ignored this little part of me that was sad that Dad and Mum had chosen favorites that did not include me, just like I had ignored it time and time before. Just like I would ignore this sense of bitterness and disappointment and loss time and time again in the future.

I hate it, but I can ignore that, and problems don't matter when they're ignored. This is all just part of living for my happiness. After all, that's all there is to life!

…Right?

It sounded so simple in my head. I told myself, I deluded myself, that it would of course be just as simple in my heart.

But for all the wishes and hopes and wistfulness and yearnings in the world, nothing's perfect.

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**_A/N:_**_ The epilogue left me unsatisfied in many ways. Fanfiction is a chance for me to find closure in myself. Please review if you've read the story; I don't care if you love it, hate it, or don't know what to say. The smallest token of pleasure to the most critical analysis is welcome._

_Also, please give me your opinion should you have one: Should this be a short chapter story, a one-shot, or a full-fledged fanfic?_

_Update from February 15, 2010: As you may have noticed, there are a few more chapters coming up. This first chapter still stands alone as a one-shot, of course.  
_


	2. Betrayed

Betrayed, Chapter Two.

**"C-minus in algebra; A+ in coology." -Lindsey Lee Wells, _Abundance of Katherines_**_, _**John Green.**

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Delusion is a powerful tool. To others, occasionally, but mostly to yourself. Denial never hurts you until you have to stop denying; and by that time, you're completely ready for it.

Theory and reason inevitably go to the bogs when faced with life. This, I suppose, was the case with the Welcoming Feast.

By principle, I never listen to the snotty first-years get sorted. This time, perhaps I knew a few of them, but why break a comfortable habit? It simply made me look more aloof, self-assured, and confident. Appearances are everything when there's instability lurking underneath. So I smiled and chatted with my carefully chosen friends (a concept important as the carefully arranged appearance), plotting and complaining about hunger.

Suddenly, a collective gasp from the majority of the Great Hall broke me out of my bubble. I turned my head ever so slightly to see what was the matter. The eyes were following a distinctive boy with a pointed chin and large brown eyes, who walked as if he had no care in the world. I felt an internal smirk coming on; this guy knew how to act, as he certainly couldn't be genuine. No one is. He surveyed the Gryffindor table critically, and then walked up straight to me.

The first bit I noticed was that he was taller than me, which irked me. Then he opened his mouth and said, "Scoot over, would you?" as if I were his friend. I glanced apprehensively at my companions, keeping an expression of distaste on my face. Rule #1 of cliques: Don't let newbies in arbitrarily. Mine led the school in popularity, so we had even more stringent regulations. The one that rose to prominence when he suavely ambled over and made his request was: Don't associate with younger years unless extremely necessary.

In any other situation, maybe I, the ringleader, could have let that unspoken rule slide. But everyone was watching: the teachers, the Headmistress, Uncle Neville (not by blood)... and most importantly the peers. My next decision had to follow everything I had built up for the past two years.

In my experience, a picture is worth a thousand words, but it's only worth exactly what you expect it to be. So I superciliously raised my eyebrow, a talent I am very proud of, and waited for him to respond. To some, I would be denying him. To others, I would be waiting for him to take a hint. To me- I was giving him a chance.

And he took it. "Has my appearance left you speechless?" he joked sarcastically, mockingly placing a hand daintily on his heart. "It's alright, I have this effect on most people." And then the tall, thin boy squeezed himself next to me, and I was in internal turmoil as the sorting hesitantly continued.

Why in Merlin's name had I done that? I just let him show me up in front of the school. I silently berated myself as I resumed the motions of conversation. It was something to slyly invite him into our group; it was another to resign my position! What is _wrong_ with me today? Why hadn't I at least responded, given him an equally if not moreso witty rejoinder? At least now I had my common sense back. I would respond in the only way I could, having given up the stage. I deliberately inched away from him, completely turned away, my body language sending a clear get-away-from-me message.

But he didn't shrink back and turn to anyone else, no. He was intent on _me_, for only Merlin (or Potter, as the saying has been going) knows why. He used the extra space to lounge in the wooden bench as if it were the epitome of luxurious seating. "Thank you," he said cheerily, his focus unabashedly on the being-sorted. "I was a bit tight for room. The name's Scorpius; don't ask for my surname. How about you?"

Finally, I made an executive decision that, while ripping my principles to shreds, I believed wouldn't rip up my reputation. I could grudgingly admit that this guy had gut, and if any firstie deserved a response perhaps it might be him. I turned and said, "I'll find out anyway. I'm James-"

"Potter," said Professor Longbottom in his brisk voice. Immediately my mind zoomed into overdrive, trying to determine which misdeed I had been belatedly caught for and possible responses that would leave Uncle Neville in my good graces enough so he wouldn't snitch to Dad. Apparently he even had an annoyingly honest streak in his first year here. Dad calls it honesty and bravery; I call it disloyalty and tattle-taleness.

"Albus," he finished, and all of the thoughts that had invaded my mind were wiped cleanly away. I barely glanced as the little brat wrung his hands and stepped up to the plate.

Scorpius noticed my distraction and I said, "oh, it's my brother being sorted."

"I've never had any siblings. Are you excited for him? Where do you think he'll go?"

"Probably to Huffelpuff, the whiny b-"

"_GRYFFINDOR!_" the sorting hat roared. My house cheered raucously, but I did not. Some stood up, but I did not.

Albus dashed towards me, gait bouncing in excitement. "Toldya so!" he cried blissfully, and then ran off to find an empty seat; as exemplified before, the area around moi was a bit crowded.

He was accepted immediately, welcomed with open arms. They all saw his strikingly green eyes, his totally convincing innocence (though such naivety is probably real). As I said. Appearance is everything.

The conversation I had witnessed before suddenly clicked for me. Albus was worried about houses. He complained to Dad. And then... Dad gave him a trick. Dad gave _him_ an advantage over the hat, some way to make the hat believe that Albus was a Gryffindor. I mean, come on. I had known Albus his entire life! He is sweet and loyal and cowardly. He is far too sheltered to know more than nothing of the challenges that Gryffindors are known to face. Hufflepuff. _Hufflepuff_. I have nothing against them, but it just seemed so blasphemous that Albus, just because of stupid genes that gave him the green eyes and gave me Uncle Ron's blue, got this upper hand. This was larger than just me. This was over the entire _school_. How- How _dare_ he?

The bias was so blatant, so clear. I had never expected, not once in my thirteen years, that Dad could possibly lower himself so far. He had fought, nearly _died _dozens of times, against prejudice. Bias was just one step away.

I calmed myself. Losing my cool would be so uncool. And I didn't want to look cruel. Cool and cruel were two entirely different things.

"Your fists are clenched," observed my new companion.

"Not anymore," I said, opening my palms and spreading my fingers wide, but Scorpius wasn't looking at me anymore. He glanced restlessly at the empty plates and the tapering line of first-years, reminding me how young he was.

"Is sorting always this slow?"

"Not if you have good company."

"Well, perhaps I'm sitting in the wrong seat."

"Actually, some people are just impervious to fun, no matter how fantastic their neighbor is."

"Ooh. Nice one. And here I thought your responses consisted mostly of arrogant looks and rudeness."

"Says the Malfoy." Scorpius shut his mouth and abruptly turned his head away. Unable to give it up, I said snidely, "Kneazle got you're tongue?" His head turned back to me, very very slowly.

"Don't compare me to him," the boy spat, but his brown eyes had no fight left in them. The change was slightly frightening, so I stayed silent, and the sorting simply continued.

"Weaver, Isabelle!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Weasley, Rose!"

There was a small pause, a moment of hesitation. Then, recovering itself, the hat opened it's brim wide and: "_SLYTHERIN!_"

The Slytherin herself sat for a moment, an expression of slight surprise on her face. Her gaze fell on Albus' agape expression, swept the school, and landed on her goal. Her mouth mustered a smirk and hopped off the stool, having reconciled herself to her fate.

Once again, I deliberated the possibility of the Sorting Hat getting stoned. This time, however, I could vaguely see where it was coming from.

Rose and I have always been a bit close. We had a kind of private companionship; both older siblings, both knowing that they got the bad side of the deal. Rose's problems with her parents were rather different than mine, though. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione loved both of them equally; but she was, as she put it, the "practice" child. It was Hugo that got the right style of clothes. It was Hugo that learned everything he needed to know when the time was right. Rose was the child of mistakes, the child of miscommunication, the child that would place as second-best in the eyes of everyone else.

Though Rose tried her best to be independently cheerful and perfect, she still hated that part of her. And perhaps it was that emotion that led her to the house of green and silver? I didn't know. But at that moment, I did know that I felt distinctly betrayed.

Betrayed by everything I thought I knew. Betrayed by the rules of the game. Rose Weasley was going to be the first first-year to earn a top spot in the Superior Clique. Rose was going to be my best friend, my first genuine best friend of my school years. Now, Scorpius Malfoy sat next to me instead. And what was meant to be a new era of closeness had turned nasty, for I would never be able to speak to Rose [publicly] again.

Most of my time would be in public, after all. And, at the risk of repeating myself, I have to say: in public, there were rules. And the one that ranked high, higher than the nuances I had previously fretted over, was this: Never associate with Slytherins.

I was a skilled gambler, but now I had lost. My foolproof formula had failed me, and the chips had turned over. The question was: how much wealth remained?

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_A/N: So, the one-shot has become two! Well, a lot more than that. I'm still trying to figure out where the plot is going to go from here. Know that the first chapter still stands alone as a one-shot._

_Also, James knows Scorpius Malfoy's last name because as the top of the food chain, he's pretty well connected and knows the names (even of the freshies!)_

_This may not be updated too soon, due to both my fail planning and my preoccupation with the Draco Diaries. But please bear with me!  
_

**_To the great reviewers of chapter one, the oneshot:_**

_Sammi: Your wish has been answered. I'm glad that the perspective is unique for you._

_ScOrPiA pOiSoN: Yay! Review! The wonderful leaver of short but awesome replies, Loonynamelass_

_XSkylarMalfoyX: Wow, the enthusiasm is wonderful! _

_Lietus: I did! Thanks for the compliments! I'm sure he would enjoy hearing that._

_Melinda: Thank you._

_Shadrac: I didn't put them in Ravenclaw! *Celebration*  
_


	3. Through Green Eyes

Through Green Eyes, Chapter Three.

**"Jealousy: turning saints into the sea." ~Mr. Brightside, _The Killers_, Hot Fuss.**

**"It doesn't take much convincing to make someone believe they're better than everyone else." -Shay, _Specials_, Scott Westerfeld.**

**"I discovered that my castles stand upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand.****" ~Viva la Vida_, Coldplay_, Death and All His Friends.**

**"Had Scarlett been possessed of such anger, she would have been stamping both feet and roaring like Gerald in his finest days, calling on God to witness the accursed duplicity and knavishness of mankind and uttering blood curdling threats of retaliation. But only by the flashing needle and the delicate brows drawn down her nose did Melanie indicate that she was inwardly seething... Scarlett realized suddenly that the Wilkeses and the Hamiltons were capable of furies equal to and surpassing those of the O'Haras." -of Melanie Hamilton Wilkes, _Gone With the Wind_, Margaret Mitchell**

**"Everything I need is denied me. Everything I want is taken away from me. And who have I got to blame? Nobody but me." ~The Good Life, _Weezer_, Pinkerton  
**

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I soon discovered that in the end I retained considerably less than I had first estimated. It still didn't make sense to me why everything was trying to change. At first, it seemed like that one emotional glimpse of mine was just that- a glance. A glance is something you turn away from, to be forgotten. One day you might wonder over it, but glances don't haunt you, and they don't last. But now, somehow, it was as if some cruel someone had taken a magnifying glass to myself and my emotions.

That's the weird thing about life. You can't think or feel anything other than what you think and feel right now. All you have left are those memories. And I don't recall _ever_ feeling so... complex. Dimensional. Confused.

Life used to be simple. Just be cheerful, carefree, and self-proud. Be a comedian, or an actor, and astound and revel in the audience's reaction. But now! Last night was so strange. Instead of feeling like I was slightly curbing myself, it took struggle to get myself in shape. To act and respond and accept. Now my life was more like a burden than beautiful.

It must be teenager-ness or something. Stupid chemicals. Surely we don't have to go through this; I mean, come on! We're _wizards_! Why do we have to suffer like muggles? Not that I have anything against muggles, but I'm just saying: Magic is supposed to make life easier. It would be a helluva lot easier if magic could prevent change.

Here's a memory related to this, completely internal:

_Ah, exceedingly ambitious. Cunning, too. You'll do anything to get what you want. You're certainly-_

****, no! I screamed. I don't swear (well, I didn't when I was eleven), but you can't censor your thoughts.

_A little rebel, huh? Well, clearly there's no where else but..._

Look at that. So simple. A little bit of anger, and a little bit of hope. Now, it takes me a million trains whisking by before a thought settles in my hands. So despicable, these hormones are.

But other people deal with them just fine, even the girls, so surely I, James Sirius Potter, can handle this, right? I can deal. Then again, are they as tormented as I? Aunt Hermione once said that some muggles have a limit on children. Good for them! Siblings are trouble, nothing more nothing less. Rose wouldn't agree with me, of course. She just loves Hugo, even though she's tired of being compared to him. But she's blinded by affection. And anyway, Rose doesn't agree with me on much anymore.

Albus had the audacity to address me in the common room. I was just lounging with me friends, trying to incite a sense of naturalness and belonging within me, when he came up to me and said, "Rose wants to talk to you" and indicated that he wanted to confer with me privately. I accepted his request, giving my friends a look like 'ugh, firsties' and telling them I'd be back in a minute.

A bit aside of the other groups, Albus said, "She said that she thought you guys should find some time to spend with each other, since you aren't going to be seeing her in the Common Room or anything like that."

"I don't want to talk to her," said I with an unpleasant lurch in my stomach.

"...What?"

"She's a Slytherin!"

"She's your cousin!" Those green eyes were filled with something I had never seen before, not in those ocular devices that alternated between trust and fear and joy. Never had Albus ever talked back to me before.

"Exactly! I can see her during the holidays!"

Green eyes; they were driving me crazy. As perhaps you could tell, the unknown generally has that effect on me. "You..." Lids flickered over them as Albus took a deep breath, and then finished with a calm whisper, "I'm sorry for bothering you, James," before turning around and walking out of the portrait hole. Finally, my thirst was quenched, and I knew; but this might have been when I first realized that satisfaction does not always satisfy. It was disgust. It was disappointment. And Albus never bothered me in the common room again. ...Rose, however, did not have such reservations.

It is Hogwarts tradition for Gryffindors and Slytherins to have double potions. That did not disturb me, for Rose is two years younger anyway. However, I did not anticipate the possibility of first-year potions directly preceding third-year. But alas, it did, and Albus had had ample time to discuss me along with the rest of his petty problems. So, of course, she was waiting for me when I came, ready to give me a piece of her mind.

"Hey, Jamsie," she said sweetly, but suspiciously so. I swear, being Slytherin is already taking its toll on her.

"Hi, Rose," I replied stiffly. "Won't you be late to class?"

She waved a little slip of paper in her hand. "Nah, I've got a late pass."

Curiosity piqued, I couldn't resist asking. Not once in my three years had I been able to devise a way to coax a late pass out of the Potions Master, and here she was on her first day in class! "How?"

"With my _Slytherin_ wiles, of course," she said briefly flashing an ironic smile. "Got a problem with that?"

"Unfortunately, it is not the time or place to discuss this right now," I hissed furiously, wanting to escape or die, which is really the same as escape. My friends would be coming any moment, and dozens of passersby had already seen us.

Her silky tone immediately became normal, the Rose I knew and loved. "So, James, when would you have us discuss this? Over the holidays? At times of extreme necessity?"

Not willing to cope with this and not expecting her to have the capacity to understand my reasoning any more than Albus, I evaded the query altogether. "Look, Rosie, this has been fun, but I'm standing in front of the door to my class and I'm _still_ going to be late."

"Fine," she said pleasantly. "I'll be seeing you around. Don't doubt me there!"

I stumbled (gracefully, of course) into the classroom and to my seat, also deliberately chosen. Not too close in the front so that I would be a teacher's pet, not too far in the back so that I would be eclipsed from view. I automatically acknowledged the arrival of fellow classmates with a nod or pointed ignorance (Gryffindors or Slytherins) as I reviewed our conversation. Her last words disturbed me the most. _Don't doubt me there!_ was something she used to say before yesterday. It was chilling to hear those four familiar words spoken from this radically different creature.

Also traditional, but perhaps not as much as G-S Potions, was to pass notes during class. Apparently Professor Slughorn would have permitted talking, but unfortunately, he had retired a decade ago. So instead, we made do with the corpses of trees. _What happened last night?_ was passed to me. All of our notes were discreet so that if they were picked up, we could quickly think up a plausible, unembarrassing, and usually innocent alibi, such as "He missed the feast due to feeling a bit off-weather, so he wanted to know who had gotten sorted where and what announcements were made" in this case.

_What are you suggesting? I don't have the authority to make my own decisions? _(If caught, an excuse could be: "They were merely questioning my decision to use a silver knife rather than an aluminum.")

_No, we just wondered if you were planning on retaining it._ ("They were encouraging me to focus on my potion so I could retain a high grade.")

_Meaning?_ ("I was confused by the wording in the directions.")

_You were seen before class. _("I confess; I had tried to start my potion early.")

_Ah._ ("He had cleared up a misunderstanding over the potion we are brewing.")

_You seem to be pretty friendly, calling her 'Rosie' and letting her call you 'Jamsie.' _

It happened to be this note that was picked up and read to the class. I blushed and said innocently, "Just friendly teasing, Professor." Of all of the slips he could have found, he just _had_ to pick the one that wasn't related to potion-brewing! Hopefully his occasionally romantic views would serve as a sufficient replacement for flattery.

They certainly seemed to. We were given a stern look, but passed on without further comment than "Well, you'll have time for such things _after_ class, boys." However, after class there was no discussion. We still hung out, but the messages had made the necessity for my estrangement very clear.

Scorpius did grace us with his presence every once in a while, at which times the group (not including me) would treat him with the deference that used to be mine. He floated through his first days at Hogwarts with enviable ease. Although he was bombarded with both the pressure of being hated by many and of being addressed by a higher order, he did not show it. There was no curbing. He did not fit in, but he made no pains to. He did not please all, but he made no plans to. And for this, I envied him.

Rose and Scorpius and Albus: the Slytherin and the should-be Slytherin and the should-be Hufflepuff. All of them seemingly intent on usurping me. That first attempt of Rose's was by no means a last attempt. Every Thursday after her class and before mine, by her insufferable insistence, we had conversation. Sometimes I directed them: they were short and irritated so I could pass quickly on to class. But other times, I was putty in her hands: I would lose myself and my guarded exterior to the private place in the Burrow's attic where we used to collaborate. But never was outside the door of Potions a private place, and no matter which course the conversation took, each week it was further evidence of my blasphemy.

And every week as my weakness became apparent, Scorpius and Albus became more admirable in the eyes of the Gryffindors. They, like the rest of the lot, had no troubles, and they knew it and acted upon it. I was trying frantically to fit in, groping the sides of the cliff to stop my free fall, but to no avail. Everyone in school has a crush, right? Well, it used to be so that I was the subject of them (the girls, I mean). But now they released themselves and fluttered away. Were they looking past the exterior and finding that what lies within disgusts them? Or do have they simply grown to despise the exterior?

Or perhaps it was just the superiority of the pair, Albus and Scorpius. Albus had Mom and Dad, wrote to them every week happy letters detailing his lovely, friend-filled life. Scorpius had some interminable interior strength that I could not admire due to my stubborn longing. But returning to the not so admirable Albus... My issues never ceased with him. At least before, I had something to keep me from that gap in my life that represented my parents. They, whom I longed to be loved by as unconditionally as they did he and Lily, could not look past green eyes or gender. So I turned from them, replaced them with the unconditional respect and companionship (not quite love) of my peers. I had even once reveled in Albus' affections.

How silly I had been to question the amount of my remaining wealth. Clearly, as the first-years flood in, I have absolutely nothing.

_

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_A/N: __Poor, stupid James. Special mention to _**Shadrac**_, who all of you have to thank for this new chapter. Now, back to the drawing board.  
_

_**But I wouldn't forget to put in a special mention to my reviewers, now would I?**  
_

_hushpuppy: Mmhm, the "true prat" returns! Well, I wouldn't call him manipulative, actually, unless your definition encompasses manipulating himself. The first statement of Ch 2 wasn't meant to be a description of his past acts- more like a cold and unsympathetic statement. Cold-hearted- Yeah, I suppose one could say that. He's tried so hard to shut himself off. What would a character be without flaws, right?  
_

_mjmusiclover: :)_

_Sammi: My dear unsigned reviewer! I worry about losing you, since without a fanfiction account you haven't Story Alert, PM, Review Reply, etc. I hope you don't lose this story! Ah, yes. John Green. Later in the story, I wonder if some Paper Towns quotes would be relevant?  
_


	4. Closer

Closer, Chapter Four.**  
**

**"It is so much easier to look away from victims. It is so much easier to avoid such rude interruptions to our work, our dreams, our hopes. It is, after all, awkward, troublesome, to be involved in another person's pain and despair."-Elie Wiesel, _The Perils of Indifference_, Delivered 22 April 1999**

**"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." -Plato**

**"You're not alone. There is more to this, I know. You can make it out. You will live to tell." ~You're Not Alone, _Saosin_, Saosin**

**"A birth is not really a beginning. Our lives at the start are not really our own but only the continuation of someone else's story." -Vida Winter, _The Thirteenth Tale_, Diane Setterfeld**

**"No, they don't know who I really am and they don't know what I've been through like you do." ~The Story,_ The Story_, Brandi Carlile  
**

**"Even if it's a dumb story, telling it changes other people just the slightest little bit, just as living the story changes me. An infinitesimal change. And that infinitesimal change ripples outward." -Colin Singleton,** again,** _Abundance of Katherines_**

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Random, unrealistic blueprints for a last ditch attempt at salvaging my popularity were increasingly coming to me as the trees around Hogwarts lost their leaves and the sky's warm, balmy countenance gave way to promising clouds. One idea that did a bit more than flutter about was that Quidditch might be my saving grace. However, beaters seldom have much fame- they don't score or save points. Uncle George was apparently very popular and a beater, but I personally doubt they were related; that, or he was fantastic. So sports is no good.

Maybe the bludgers were giving me a sign, anyway, that it wasn't meant to be. They very seldom came around my side of the pitch. It is a pity, though. Quidditch is the one thing that the first-years could never take away from me, and I can't even utilize it. At least it's good stress relief. The crack of the bat, the wind in my ears, the height from the ground...

The next and last inkling that drove a stake into my mind came by an unlikely source. Unlikely, because Professor McGonagall is too strict to support the students. Last, because there was no need for another.

She informed us during dinner in the Great Hall that those who wish to stay during the holidays must add their names to the list. "The Lonely List," my friends and I had once dubbed it. Now, I sat on the outskirts on their group and Scorpius sat in the center. Ugh. Exiled was far more invisible that the uninvolved. At this somber memory, I snuck a glance at Albus and Scorpius, whom I still considered my usurpers. Scorpius was always somehow able to be scarce when the populars sought his attention, learning a lesson I had never known or had the patience to learn: Less supply is more demand. Today he was present and internally basking in his glory; that's how I saw it as I stared, peeved, at the close-knit group I used to be a part of.

Rather than the derisive laughter and babble about what each of us would do over Christmas, there was simply silence as Scorpius, in his first-year fashion, pointedly directed all of his attention to the Headmistress. From my position, however, I could still see his expression as he turned away from the rest; it was almost as if I were intended to see it. But I couldn't have been. On his face were emotions private and frightened and confused. McGonagall went on to say that the list would be available all week, and Scorpius emitted a very small sigh, a puff of air that immediately dispersed among its fellow particles, never to be found and isolated again.

When I saw these strange occurrences, did I think of him? No. What I thought of was myself. Of how in front of the bathroom mirror, I wash my face and check the dark circles under my eyes and try to feel familial love. At least by Albus; but Albus hadn't talked to me for ages, and it was taking its toll on me. Of how I wondered how I appeared to other people, wondered what expressions crossed my face and if any real feeling was ever exposed. The way Scorpius' feelings were laid out bare for all to notice- and yet of all the people surrounding him, I was the only one who did. And of the way that I was able to dismiss his actual feelings as a person to consider my own. It was actually reassuring, to think that if anyone saw my internal weaknesses on my face they might not notice, they might not pry.

But once again, this was only a moment's glance and a rush of thought. Then, I contemplated the actual task of going home and facing my family. My parents. How could I, when my personal shield of self assurance had shattered? When I had nothing left to help me, or to save me, or to keep me from crying and exposing myself as a pitiful being. Who would want to love me then? No one I'd want to love me; for pity to be confused with love is a sorry fate that I would never want.

Even if I did hold myself together, Dad and Mom's doting reactions over Albus would probably frustrate me to no end. Oh, how it would only remind me of Christmas in first-year:

_I had come home, ready to be loved and adored, having missed my family as only a firstie can and sending loving owls every week. Estranged from their actual behavior, I had fooled myself into thinking that things would be different, closer. So I gave Mum an enthusiastic hug and beamed at Dad. "I'm a Gryffindor," I cried happily, "And I got on the Quidditch Team! I was almost cut, but then the other prat for beater turned out to have stolen his broom so I made it in with Jo Brown! And we lost our first match, but I hit the bludger a few times!"  
_

_"Very nice," Mum said, and Dad gave a smiling nod. But then Albus came, and Lily, and Albus was saying how they had found out that the Hogwarts Express' appearance of a train had nothing to do with how it actually worked, and my excited story faded into nothingness. Albus and Lily had all of the fall and all of the spring to talk and demand Dad and Mum's attention. But now, here I was, fresh from school and full of stories and happiness._

_It didn't get better from there. All holiday every time I worked up the courage to talk to them, their reactions would pale to how they treated Albus and Lily. They were polite and kind, but when I realized that at the end of the few weeks I still missed them, I knew that nothing had really changed. I would always 'miss' them, because they would never be there. For Lily and for Albus, but not for James._

Last year, I saved myself the disappointment by insisting on a family trip to the mini-Burrow (Based lovingly off of Grandma Weasley's house). Every day and some of the nights I would sneak out with Rose to the attic to talk and imagine and laugh. Although it wasn't a replacement for my own parents, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione treated me the same way they treated everyone else (other than their own kids, of course). It was refreshing and enjoyable. However, that would not be an option this winter. Through my vaguely forced talks with Rose every Wednesday, I've gleaned a bit of information on the tension present in the Weasley household.

It didn't seem too bad, of course. But Rose said there was probably going to be some "distance" between them, "especially because Dad's so bad with expressing his emotions. He's not mad at me, but I worry that he's going to be scared of me or something. It's going to take a bit of work to convince him I'm the same as ever," she bit the inside of her lip for a moment, looking extremely troubled and pure-Rose, the way I liked her most. Or maybe that was how she always was, and I had just imagined the rest. You never know what happened, you only know what you can remember. She continued with a burst of frustration and that inexplicable bitter appreciation for irony she had gained from Slytherin, "First Dad and now you. Come on! Green is a pretty color!"

I laughed and blurted "Like Albus' eyes!" without thinking. Despite not making sense, the outburst's lack of sense was... refreshing. I knew I shouldn't have let my walls down so quickly this time, and I knew that I could lose all of my friends just for the sake of this one if I let us get too close again. But there was a smaller, defiant part of me that insisted this one was worth it. The same small, defiant part that causes me so much frustration and dissatisfaction about my lifestyle. The same small part that had started to make it better.

Rose gave herself a little self-congratulatory smirk. She had noticed, too. Rather than allude to it, however, she merely continued, "Or your Dad's, or Scarlett O'Hara's in Mum's favorite movie, or Grandpa Granger's car, or..."

So although Rose is a pretty good companion, and it would be great to let down my walls without guilt accompanied, just another awkward family situation was not what I needed right now. Instead, a new idea came to mind: _Don't go_. Hogwarts had no parents, just kids and elderly teachers. The students and the staff.

And another part of this new plan appealed to me. The solitude. None of the more popular kids would stay, and I would be able to own my reputation as on top. If I could work the castle's emptiness to my advantage, by the time the school returned everything would be fine again!

It had been a while since my last prank, however, so I needed to get myself back into practice for the big event on Christmas Eve (Well, aren't I sentimental!) Plus, it might give me a little leverage when I have to take the final bound. Choosing the time would be simple. Midnight, of course. It added a bit of flair, and it was my trademark. No one really knew how I did it, but I got in and out so effectively, like a ghost, accomplishing the unheard of- not getting caught. Patrols are far stricter with Headmistress McGonagall, so sneaking out has been impossible since Dumbledore's reign.

And I have to attribute everything to the Cloak and the Marauder's map, my adoptive parents. They saved me when I needed them most.

_It was the end of Christmas break, and I was close to despair. I was rummaging the house to pack (Albus and Lily have their bags prepacked to go to Fortescue's, but I've had to take care of mine since the age of seven), and still disappointed that nothing had changed. To keep a little of my parents with me, partly out of love and partly out of spite, I went to their room and tried to find something special enough to help but unused enough to not be missed. Then I saw this silver blanket (my knight in shining armor) at the bottom of Dad's drawer, with the required inch of dust layered on top. Snatching it up, a small sheet of paper fell out of it. That was funny, I thought. Why hadn't I seen it before?_

_Picking it up curiously, I decided to keep the paper. Somehow, it seemed to belong with the Cloak. I put the parchment in my pocket, and ran the soft, silvery material over my arm. It vanished. I wondered for a moment if it was a trick in the light, or in the darkness, as there wasn't any light at all. But in this magical world, there are no tricks. Eager to see (or not see) more, I dashed it around my shoulders. _

_And so, there was the beginning of my social life. There was my savior. My map mum and my immersed-in-darkness dad, right on schedule._

I draped the Cloak around myself that night and flexed my fingers and toes in anticipation. The map lay in front of me (By now I had inadvertently discovered its secrets), but bare. I had already checked it; the caretaker was in his office for a butterbeer-and-bathroom break, and that should last for fifteen minutes, if my calculations were still accurate. Then I took off the Cloak and tucked it under my shoulder. My entrances were meant to be noticed for a moment before I magically disappeared; it gave me credibility and resembled the stuff of legends. Just as producing light (in the form of sparks) is a basic, rudimentary art, so is producing sound. I took a breath, and then slipped out the door of the dormitory and down to the common room, and, theoretically, out the portrait hole before shoving the Cloak on to myself.

I never got that far.

Instead, I barely got past the hearth. For sitting in front of the flames, eyes reflecting a strange, cold shade of grey in the fire, was Scorpius Malfoy. Before I could stop myself, a small gasp reached my throat.

His head swiftly turned, and as he turned his eyes returned to the striking brown I knew so well, from the first day we met to the envious glimpses in the great hall. For the first time, I noticed that the edges were silver, thus creating the magnified sideways effect of twin stones. "Oh, it's you," said the boy, but not unkindly. His voice was a bit hoarse, as though he had been yelling. I then reevaluated when he wiped the silvery remnants tears from his eyes. Not yelling; sobbing. "Hi," he said with a little hiccup.

"Hey," I responded, confused and uncertain. I had not at all forgotten my purpose, for some reason I only could wish that he wasn't here, that I could simply go on with my duties, and he not part of it.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and I found myself inching closer to hear. "I just, I'm so... stupid. I just don't know... I don't want to go home, James! But I can't stay here, knowing!"

Instead of the "what?" I had intended, I asked, "Why are you telling me this?" Such a childish, selfish question, I berated myself. I should be a sponge and allow him to spend his sorrow on me. Is it horrible that I want so much to leave?

He didn't seem to be put off by the question, or parry it as one might expect. "You're my only friend in this _d***_ school," he swore.

Still perturbed, I foolishly protested. "Our only conversation was two and a half months ago!" _though I remember it as clear as day_. _And he talks to so many others. Many of the populars pay him mind!_ mentally added I.

As though he could hear me, he responded sadly, "Just goes to show how shallow the company that chooses me is... But for my wealth, they would hate me openly. Only the decent do."

"I don't hate you."

"Exactly."

"Oh," I said, not sure what to say, trying to focus solely on the way the streaming tears caught the firelight. For the past few weeks, I had been letting go of my control as my popularity slipped away. Or had it slipped away as I let go? Nevertheless, I was letting it go and now I desperately needed it back. It was essential that I didn't say the wrong thing, and yet no one was even there to watch me say it right. My silence did not fall ill on him.

"Why can't they just keep us here? Why can't they make us stay all year, twelve months, vital classes that cannot be missed each day, and keep us forever?"

"You can stay over the winter holidays if you want," I offered.

"How can make it sound so simple?!" he said, his voice getting louder.

"Shh," I soothed, trying not to feel cruel as I glanced around to make sure that this private conversation stayed, well, private. "Why can't you stay here?"

"Because I can't be so selfish! Maybe _you_ can," he spat. "You don't have any problems other than your little superficial junk about keeping up with the clique."

Well, now he was being unreasonable. Yet, he was clearly distraught, so surely I could forgive him for his thinly veiled insults. "Um... Problems?" I couldn't imagine his problems. I had envisioned the entire body of Hogwarts carefree and simple, but now such a theory seemed idiotic. But with the broken boy in front of me, I could not rethink my world at the moment. He was a distraction that I could not block out, for that small part was growing inside my chest, filling me up, and I was closer to bursting by the second.

"Oh, fine. I'll tell you," his passionate fit seemed to leave him and he leaned back into his chair again. "I shouldn't get mad at you, it's not your fault. Sorry about that." There was a moment of silence, and I thought, _Is that what he was intending to tell me?_, but then the moment passed, and he began his monologue.

"The story begins with the man named Draco Malfoy. Son of the hated Lucius Malfoy, he was not quite hated as much for himself as his family name. But he was still an abominable person. Power-hungry, malicious, terribly weak. He was responsible for the death of Dumbledore. He almost killed the Chosen One once or twice. But after the war ended, he left behind such pretenses of evil. All it was was the peer pressure and influence that he couldn't withstand. So at this point, he's not good, but he's not that bad," Scorpius paused in his narrative and rubbed his eyes, which were now dry. The spirit started to return to him as he got into the story. "This is after the war ended, right? So the Malfoys are disgraced. Pardoned for rebelling against the Dark Lord, which was actually mostly Narcissa, but disgraced. Their blood meant nothing now."

"So, Narcissa, Draco's mom, she conferred with Lucius and they figured out a way that would show the wizarding world that they were reformed. So they looked around, picked out a girl that fit all of their requirements, which was actually very simple. Blond hair, muggleborn. And the Greengrasses were desperate for money, so it didn't take much 'negotiating' for them to accept."

"Draco himself was a different matter. They tried to reconcile him, telling him that arranged marriages were traditional in the family. And, as for their solving their notoriety, 'this is the only way,' Narcissa said."

'Well, _you_ marry a mudblood then!' he screamed back. But no matter how he protested and fought, he married the girl. And I thought, maybe I should forgive him. He's my dad. He was forced into marriage. He was forced to live a life he hated, and live with a woman that he hated so much he didn't want to get in a ten-foot radius with her..."

"But," I interrupted his narrative, "If they hate each other, how were you..." For a moment, I searched for a non-scarring way to articulate my question for the first-year.

"Conceived? Oh, simple... Firewhiskey," he sighed. "_Lots_ of firewhiskey." I was silent, so he continued where he left off. "So I tried, right? But every time he looked at me, it was with such disgust and repulsion. Any kind words fell on deaf ears. He looked at me with the same repulsion that everyone else did, _because_ of my last name, my hair, my height, my chin. Because I was supposed to be just like this thing that calls himself a man and drags himself to life every day.

"Whenever I was alone, though, I felt that I should try again. Be brave, I thought. Help him. And maybe it would have worked, James. It might have worked."

"What happened?" I asked, surprised to find myself whispering. I no longer wanted to leave. My feet were rooted too deeply in this strange, horrible tale.

"I saw the scars. I didn't know what they were at first. I asked, 'Mother, why are you limping?' 'Mother, why are you purple?' But it didn't take long for me to figure it out."

This was the end of the tale, and once again his eyes bored into the the depth of the fire. I felt pathetic. Shouldn't I be saying something? "Sorry," I broke the silence. "Sorry that I'm not helping."

"No, no," he said. "You listened. Most would have turned and run at the sight of tears. Most would have judged me from the beginning. You listened... I suppose I didn't finish, did I? But the end is obvious. I want to stay here, and stay away from him. But I have to go to that house and support Mother, right? I have to save her!"

He was very carefully avoiding the word "home," I noticed. This whole story, this life that had been detailed and brought to life, so different from my own, almost unrecognizable as a life... An entirely new perspective is more precious and strange than anyone can imagine. It should be having amazing, metamorphosing effects on me. Instead, however, for once in my life, I felt like my own identity had been swept away. It was impossible to think of myself, to try to analyze the impact. I was needed for more than just myself.

While I finalized my decision, Scorpius had continued,"...Unlike you and your petty issues, it's not even just my problem! I can't do this alone!"

I walked to his side, closer to him than I could ever remember being near anyone, and gazed long and hard into the eyes that had caught my attention from the beginning. Not grey and cold like a Malfoy. Brown, looking so forlorn and empty. They should be full.

"You're not alone."

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_A/N: This chapter is considerably darker than the others. And it occurs about two and a half months after the last, so if you noticed a bit of a change, you would be right. Oh, and by the way, this will not end up being slash, or any kind of romance for that matter. I don't think any of you would harbor such a notion, but before anyone got excited I just wanted to make that clear.  
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_**To my darling reviewers:**__ (I encourage joining this prestigious group if you are not already involved)  
_

_xandromedax: The plot thickens, and your wish (for a full-fledged fanfic) is coming true._

_Lady Stephy: Not so apathetic anymore, though. I just love dynamic characters. And I'm glad that this story is an unofficial favorite.  
_

_the unsigned Katie: Quidditch! Wow, I almost completely forgot! I conveniently took care of that in this chapter, I hope. Sorry; I'm not too into sports.  
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_Lietus: Yes, characters must have flaws. Characters without flaws or depth annoy me to no end (*cough Twilight cough*). Yes, yes, exactly right! Rose and Scorpius are wonderful, aren't they? Back to James' flaws, though: here, we start seeing some strengths, too._


	5. Courage

Courage, Chapter Five

**"For the first time I know, this is now who I am." ~Season, _Almost Here_, The Academy Is...**

**"Forever is comprised of nows."**_** -**_**Emily Dickinson**

**"Dressed up as myself, living in the shadow of who I'm supposed to be." ~Sick Little Games, _Nothing Personal_, All-Time Low**

**"I'm afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I'm afraid they'll mock me, think I'm ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously." -Anne Frank, _The Diary of a Young Girl_, Anne Frank**

**"I want to live and die for bigger things. I'm tired of fighting for just me." ~American Dream, _Oh! Gravity_, Switchfoot**

**"When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire." ~Your Ex-Lover is Dead, _Set Yourself on Fire_, Stars  
**

* * *

For the first time in months, -or maybe years- I felt alive, rejuvenated. There was something larger than me to fight for, something better that life could be. Perhaps that's where I differ from Dad. After his famous (after letting it slip in an interview, he never saw an end to it) "Honestly, I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," he was content to make his life about _not _having trouble, becoming an international Quidditch player rather than an Auror like Uncle Ron and planning for early retirement. But for me- it just felt so _good_ giving my time to a worthier cause.

I talk of helping Scorpius.

Those three words were ones that I did not want to flatten into an empty promise. He trusted me enough that I was the only one he told. Just like my long-ago popularity, I had to earn that.

It would be a bit more difficult, though, than just flying out with wand ready and heart exposed. This was a complicated situation, a delicate situation. One that need patience, and clever planning, and subtlety.

One third year and one first year, I weighed sadly, against a thirty-seven year old retired death eater. That was all we had, really. The only people who bothered talking to me weren't friends. My old 'friends' had abandoned me, and Scorpius didn't think of them as friends at all. Both of us were alone in the world.

For one moment, the idea of calling the Ministry flitted through my mind. Immediately, I flinched away from the idea. This was Scorpius' private business, not for the entire Ministry. I cringed at the thought of a reporter like the aging but cruel Rita Skeeter scratching furiously with her Quick-Quotes Quill, vilifying Scorpius for his father's actions and causing me to appear heroic for getting involved and saving Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy from her insane husband and son. Once upon a time I might have reveled at such fame, hoped that Dad and Mum might notice and appreciate me. But now, I felt that if I allowed the Daily Prophet to print such rubbish, I wasn't worth anyone's love. And then, of course, it was the matter than the Ministry would get the Aurors involved, which by definition got Uncle Ron involved, who would get his best friend involved, also known as Dad. And then my parents would know and somehow I didn't think they deserved to know. Resentful of their indifference, I didn't want them to be part of my life anymore. They hurt too much.

So, sure, Scorpius isn't alone. But I'm not the greatest addition to his team. Two foolish Gryffindors, with nothing to their name but determination and pain. Sure, Edison said that 99% of genius was perspiration, but 99% isn't enough.

I needed help. It would take a bit more courage that I originally expected that helping Scorpius would entail. As I said before, I needed patience, subtlety, clever planning. And for that I needed Rose.

Unfortunately, it was not as simple as just talking to her before Potions class. A few days ago, she had confessed, "Okay, fine, you win."

"What?" I said, frightened that her patience had finally worn thin and she was going to leave me 'in peace.'

"I didn't actually manage to procure a late pass from Professor 'Despot'," she said with a long-suffering sigh. "I get excused by Neville instead."

Aha! Finally, it's out! I should have _known _it was impossible to sway Professor "wand-up-his-bum," but Uncle Neville, incidentally Rose's next period, was a pushover! My worried frown collapsed into a huge grin and I taunted her for a few minutes before I was cut off.

"Ha, ha," she drawled. "Had your fun? Now, I wouldn't just surrender that easily if it wasn't necessary. The thing is..." here she bit her lip, and she looked small and soft, like before Slytherin had pumped its venom into her veins, "Neville's threatening to tell my Mum and Dad that I've been so late. And you know what Mum is like about rules and school and stuff. 'Follow them to the letter unless there's the threat of darkness' and all that," she said in a hilariously accurate version of Aunt Hermione.

But the news was too sour for laughter. Her eyes remained dark, and my identically blue ones soon matched the expression. "That snitch!"

"I don't blame him. What would you do if one of your students was late to every single lesson of the term? Plus, you know what they say."

"What?" I said, not even bothering to sound interested. I felt as though my security blanket had been ripped to shreds.

"Snitches are worth one-hundred and fifty points, and usually win the game."

"Actually, they aren't worth any points if_ they_ catch_ you_, and they ALWAYS end the game," I quipped back, but the game had ended. What was I to do? Should I try to leave Transfiguration early? Should I ignore it? Would this be a _good _thing, so I would be able to regain my popularity? Somehow, these contemplations had been completely wiped out of my mind by McGonagall's announcement that following evening.

This was all brought back, as well as my new, grave decision confirmed, when I saw that there was no bubbly figure swathed in green by the door. Potions had never been more unbearable.

Two notes were passed to me in quick succession:_ I didn't see her today_. (Possible alibi: "Just talking about his favorite silver dagger. Someone reached the store cupboard faster than him.")_ Does this mean you want back in?_

The second was picked up before any suave answer came to mind, so I quickly supplied, "I'm sorry, sir. I haven't written any notes, honest. They just won't leave me be." Wow. That gives meaning to the phrase "Freudian slip."

However, I didn't try to apologize or take it back. I was tired of feeling like a third wheel. I was tired of being shunned. I was tired of the rules, I was tired of the scorn, I was tired of the masks. Scorpius' words came back to me: "Just goes to show how shallow the company that chooses me is..." Tonight I was going to blatantly sign my resignation anyway. Why pretend any longer?

Soon, too soon, it was dinnertime in the Great Hall. Before I performed my task, I watched McGonagall roll up the list and put it in her pocket. Scorpius' name was there; mine was not. An owl had been sent to Mum and Dad that I wanted to stay at Hogwarts for the break. Not that they would care, but just to seal up the cracks.

I braced myself, and stood up. There was no putting off that I could do. This had to be done.

The long walk was torturous. I glanced back at the Gryffindor table. Sure enough, among all of the normal, out-of-the-way people, there was Clique Superior, shaking their high-and-mighty heads at me. Why did the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables have to be on opposite ends? ...So, here I was, giving up everything. At least that "small part of me," as I've referred to it, is roaring in triumph. I call it small, but now it would have to be all of me. I reached the table, and her eyes sought me. There could be no room for doubt anymore. The deed was done. What would become of me? I didn't know. I ignored it, ignored the future. Right now was the only thing that could preserve my sanity.

"Hey, Rose," I said, and I saw the pride shining in her eyes. And then I told, concluding, "...And I've just got to help him, but I don't know how, and I thought maybe you did."

She was silent the entire time and for a pause after, except for muttering _Muffliato_ at her peers. I automatically cataloged this spell.

To fill it, and feeling, once again, inadequate to the horror, I mused, "I never really realized what it would be like. I mean, it's pretty stupid of me now, to not think..."

"...that some things could be worse? It's okay. Your parents tried to shield you from all of that. Mum told me, when I was little and throwing a terrible-two-tantrum, that Teddy's parents were gone and that having some parents are better than none. Later, I went up to her and told her that they were the best parents ever, but it wasn't until later, when Teddy was visiting, that I realized how awful that must be. Ever since then, it's kind of helped me appreciate my situation."

Politely, I waited for her to finish, absorbing it as well as I could in my state of adrenaline. "It's not so much that I never considered the idea of having really bad or nonexistent parents. It's just that I didn't realize that parents might not love-"

"That's it!" she cried. "Oh, sorry," she said to the general vicinity, and then lowered her voice to a brisk whisper of dismissal. "You and Scorpius- meet me on the Astronomy tower at midnight."

"Wait, what? Why?"

"I have a plan."

_

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_A/N: Sorry for the long wait! And the cliffie, mwahaha. This is actually the first cliffhanger I've ever written. Anyway, can anyone guess what Rose's plan is? I think I've included two hints, one very obvious and one quite less obvious which I originally did not intend.  
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_RANDOM HP-NERDNESS: Well, I watched HBP last night on DVD with a friend of mine and we kept replaying the awkward romantic tension parts. Like, ROFL about Ron and Harry's midnight conversation- "What does Dean see in her?""See in Ginny? What about Dean?""Nah, Dean's brilliant.""You called him a git just yesterday!""Well, he was running his hands all over my sister! I had to hate him. On principle... So, what does he see in her?""Well, she's smart, funny... attractive.""Attractive?! In what way?""Well... she has nice... skin.""Skin? You're saying that Dean is dating my sister because she has nice skin?""Well- It could be a contributing factor." [awkward pause, though the entire conversation is generally awkward] "Hermione has nice skin." "Er... I never really noticed... Yeah. Right. Well, I'm going to bed." "Yeah. Me too. Night." That's really misquoted, but you get the gist. Imagine if guys actually had conversations like that! If you're a guy reading this, I really want to know if you do, because that would be hilarious.  
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_**Ravishing review replies** (and Lietus: you give a long review, you get a longer reply. it's all good)**:**  
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_xandromedax: Heck yeah, James is going to help him! They are a bit similar, and a bit different. They hide their problems, but James has hidden his entire self. Also, James has gotten into the social hierarchy thing voluntarily, while Scorpius is uncomfortable with the situation and tries, as noted in the last chapter, to make himself scarce.  
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_ariel: Sorry, I don't do pranks very well. I'm not very mischievous (or if I am, I don't try to exploit it), though there's a bit of plotting going on. Hope you can enjoy the fic without them!_

_Katie: Three reviews! Ah, the luck of the unsigned. Oh, thank you so much! And, yes, it is her. Loonyname_lass_' gender is no secret. Teddy, eh? Totally forgot about him. Drat. Now I've g__ot to fit him in.__.. Okay, so I briefly mentioned him in this chapter through Rose. Ta da! He exists! He might come back, too._ Wow!_ I cannot believe I forgot such a character.  
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_Lietus: "No matter how big your problem is, it will be the most painful for you." Oh wow, I wish I could quote you. You just nailed one of the themes here. Also, about sympathizing with Scorpius... I know it's hard to sympathize, especially when you have to see it from James' point of view. So, #1, Scorpius isn't perfect, of course. He is a bit flawed, too. He understands most of James' problems, but he doesn't know, and has no way of knowing, about James' parental issues. If you look at it in an unbiased context, it's really amazing that he can still try, perhaps not too gently, to help James overcome his own issues while crying and clearly distraught. He doesn't lose himself, and part of him insists that James be happier. _

_Also, abuse is pretty terrible. Luckily, I've never been in a situation like this, but I'll try to supplement. It's like living in a state of constant fear. You're own home is unsafe, and the person you love most is already a victim. This tangible fear is something that James has never had in his life. James has frustration, perhaps anxiety at times, but this is real fear for Scorpius. _

_And finally, about Scorpius moving the plot and character development forward. Well.... yeah. I mean, as a writer, my main focus is James. I have to get him through a story, and the story is about himself. If the story was about Scorpius, then I might start the tale a bit earlier, and end a bit later, and cover how meeting James has changed _his_ life. How meeting James told him that he wasn't alone. That's why I ended chapter 4 with those three words from James, because it's showing how both of them have been transformed. The thing about writing is that you're so eager to show other people's perspectives, to show how they feel. But what I'm trying to do is _not_ do that, because I want my readers to be able to see the other characters through the haze of James. Ooh! I am so adding two more quotes to the last chapter. I have been inspired by writing this message. _

_Anyway, being a maniac is totally okay with me! ;) You're a very flattering maniac. Finally, I'm really glad that this story is really giving a feel for what James feels. I was never the "left out" child (quite the opposite, in fact), but I listened to my sister talk about it and this story is a bit of an ode to her, in a way. (James is not based off of her in any way.) So it's good to know that this creation is realistic and accurate. Plus, I put that little flashback because a lot of his problems are a bit superficial. "I wandered through fiction to look for the truth buried beneath all the lies," as the Goo Goo Dolls put it. I wanted to make it clear that the parents problem rises above that of popularity and puberty, and is the one that is more than just James' flaws._

_Lady Stephy: _I_ knew he did! Teehee. I know, I cheated. And I'm glad I've got another obsessed one._

_**Yeah, so, 'til next time, my dears. It shouldn't be long, as I'm fairly positive about the plot's direction. Review me your reactions, ideas, and love!**  
_


	6. Perfect

Perfect, Chapter Six

**"A few more days for to tote the weary load." -My Old Kentucky Home, 19th century songwriter Stephen Collins Foster**

**"I'm... running, but not quite sure where to go. And I don't know what I'm diving into." ~Hanging by a Moment, _No Name Face_, Lifehouse**

**"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." -Joseph Campbell**

* * *

Scorpius and I have stuck to each other like glue ever since our talk. He's far shyer than he first impressed me as. "Sorry, I must be boring you," is a common phrase, though "boring" is interchangeable with "bothering" and "hampering." It's interesting, in a way. In the beginning, I praised him for his cool indifference to me, his magnificent act under pressure. Now I'm touched that he cares, his young sad interior. I always respond, of course, with "Of course not, idiot," though "idiot" is interchangeable with "stupid" and "Scorpius."

In the common room, the walk to Scorpius' side was nothing compared to the mile I had just crossed, and I knelt down to hold a whispered conversation as though it was the most natural thing in the world. As though he hadn't been my dire rival just three days earlier.

"Rose will help."

"Good job," he commended.

"It was nothing that you couldn't do," I said honestly, internally writhing in shame when I saw Albus silently pass me.

"We're not talking about me. We're talking about you."

"No, wait, we are talking about you. Stop distracting me!"

"Sorry. It's a natural talent." At least he didn't say _I must be ... you._ Maybe this meant he had finally got the message and wouldn't be so nervous about being my friend.

"Anyway, she says that we need to meet her at the Astronomy Tower at midnight."

"How-"

"Just meet me the way we met a few days ago, and I'll explain."

"Do I have to cry this time?"

"Shut up, stupid." With that last term of affection, I smiled and headed to the third-year dormitories to get some winter homework out of the way. Whatever Rose had in mind, I doubted that it would leave time for such things. As the case seems to be most of these days, I was wrong. Rose's plan actually did leave me a lot of downtime to do homework. Typical, I figured. Like Rose would ever forget homework even with domestic violence in our hands.

The atmosphere was far different than the other night Scorpius and I had inadvertently met. The Cloak and Map were held in my right hand, my wand in my left, just the same. But there was an air of excitement, rather than the emotional tension of Friday. His heart had been bared to me. And mine... not quite. Just like he, my sacrifice had been difficult but had unexpectedly lessened my burden. So now we met, lighter people, with hope in our hearts. I showed him the Cloak. I showed him the Map. His eyes glazed over in awe, but then the curiosity took hold of him and we silently navigated through deserted corridors to Rose's rendezvous.

"So what's the plan?" Scorpius said, the moment he saw her. At the awkward pause, I realized that this was their first direct contact.

I broke the silence, urging "Yes?"

"Thanks for the warm greeting," she said, frowning at her reception. "Well, it's fairly simple. The problem seems to be that Mr. Malfoy hates his wife, right?"

"Yes," I said again. Did Rose _have_ to draw it out?

"So if we could get rid of that hate, then he wouldn't hit her anymore. Well, maybe hit _on_ her..."

"You mean-"

"I mean a love potion," she stated baldly.

Scorpius was very white. "I have to spike his drink? What if-f he catches me?"

"Actually, I was planning on going to your house and sticking it out for you."

"You can't do it alone!"

"Wait, guys, hold up," Rose called. "So we know that there's been a bit of miscommunication here. If you guys don't agree, then just listen to me, 'kay?" Waiting a moment for affirmation, she continued, "James has already planned to sneak to Scorpius' house. So far, so good. Now, Scorpius. The plan does not technically involve you-"

"How can it _not _involve me?" he objected. "This is my family. James can't just get into my house. He won't even be able to reach it, let alone navigate inside of it. You need an expert. The Marauder's Map can't help you beyond Hogwarts."

"'Kay. Revision: the plan does involve you. So you need to inform McGonagall that there has been a change of plans and you will not be staying over the holidays, however much you'd like to. Well, minus the second part. So, for now we have two weeks left at Hogwarts before we all have to leave. Do you guys want me to come?"

"No," we asserted simultaneously. There was a silent agreement that we didn't want dainty Rose mixed up in this. Not to be sexist, but a pretty 11-year old girl in a house with an abusive and usually drunk thirty-seven year old? No.

"Right, then. I'll cover for you at home. You know, getting pseudo owls and etc. For the two weeks before, we have to make the potion. For this we'll need instructions, which I can get from Mom or the Restricted Section, and the ingredients, which have to come from Teddy and Uncle Neville, since there's no way in hell the Potions Master's giving us anything," she took out a pad of parchment and began jotting the plan down, which seemed like a fairly good idea. Three columns defined the page, one for each of us.

"Teddy?"

"Our technically not related cousin. He owns the apothecary in Diagon Alley. And Neville's Professor Longbottom," I supplied.

"Having a large family sounds like fun," he mused.

"Eh."

"You two are the worst. Anyway, James, you're on best terms with Teddy, so you'll need to coax the ingredients out of him. I'll try getting it out of Neville, as a present for Mum or something. And then I have to get the instructions for her, too. I'll say something about academic intrigue, and she'll gobble it right up."

"You're going to lie?" I asked quickly. Warning bells flew in my mind. _Slytherin, slytherin._ "What happened to your Mum's rule about rules?"

"'Unless there's a threat of darkness,' she said. Well here it is," she countered fiercely. "Do you think I'm doing this for fun?"

"No, no," I said quickly. "I'm sorry. I just didn't realize how big this is. Sometimes I feel like I'll never get it."

"It's okay. Continuing on... After we finish brewing the potion, we'll all be on the train. I'm going home. Ooh, wait, before that, James, you have to write me some messages and use the school owls to owl them to me. Predate them to come every few days." She scribbled furiously. "Now, you two are going to Malfoy Manor. James needs to stay under the cloak the whole train ride and to your house. Will he have to stay underneath it at your house until the situation is stabilized?"

"There are dungeons. No one goes down there. He won't have to be invisible the whole break."

"Good. Will there be an issue of food?"

"No. The house-elves are good at keeping secrets. I'm basically their master. They respect Mother, but can't bring themselves to obey her. And Draco Malfoy usually forgets, except when he wants a firewhiskey refill."

"Perfect! So you can go there and James, invisible, will pour the Amortentia into the firewhiskey. It'll probably smell the same, seeing as he's an alcoholic anyway. And after that, all we have to do is keep sending your mum a steady supply of the stuff and she'll be safe. Plus, she'll get the marriage of love and companionship she's always dreamed of." We still looked uncertain. I felt as though there was something strange about this plan, but it just wasn't coming to mind. "Oh, come on, guys! I thought it all out. This is going to be perfect."

So we went back to sleep. The two weeks flew by without a hitch. Aunt Hermione wrote back a negative answer, saying that such material is "a bit too mature," but there was a copy in the Restricted Section, which Uncle Neville helped us obtain. Teddy turned out to be endlessly helpful, and it worked out because most of the non-herbal ingredients were used in potions that were rather less illegal. I trusted Rose with the brewing, because honestly, the majority of my Potions classes was passing slips of paper. It looked okay at the end (and by okay, I mean that it was a liquid and smelled good). Scorpius rectified with McGonagall that he was actually going home.

Everything had been taken care of. This did not help, however, the foreboding I felt as I bumped along in the Hogwarts Express, unnoticed and unseen. I tried to use Rose's words to reassure me. "This is going to be perfect." And then I remembered...

But for all the wishes and hopes and wistfulness and yearnings in the world, nothing's perfect.

* * *

_A/N: The hint at the plan was basically that Rose had interrupted James after he said "love." Also, there have been numerous references to potions throughout. Finally, 'Follow them to the letter unless there's the threat of darkness' was the last idea that something like that might come up. I suppose it wasn't very obvious at all, which is fine, as it wasn't meant to be._

_More importantly, the last line is not just random. It is the last line of the first chapter, copied and pasted. Don't you just love circles?_

_Katie: "Sorry for writing so many reviews." Are you serious? Reviews are the lifeblood of fanfiction writers. And yes, I think I'll make hints to it later, but it's not going to actually happen in this story._

_Lady Stephy: Well, she's not quite Hermione. She's a Slytherin, for one thing. This trio is going to a bit more dysfunctional than Harry, Ron, and Hermione, methinks. One Gryffindor third year, one Slytherin first year, and one person who shares with both.  
_


	7. Confession

Confession, Chapter 7.

**"If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs, the bark of the tree was as soft as the skies. The wolf stands below, hungry and lonely, and cries to the moon: if only, if only." -Madame Zeroni, _Holes_, Louis Sachar**

**"Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? Well I'm here with you." ~Dark Blue, _Everything in Transit_, Jack's Mannequin**

**"Maybe it's not my weekend, but it's gonna be my year. And I'm so sick of watching while the minutes pass as I go nowhere. And this is my reaction to everything I fear 'cause I've been going crazy; I don't want to waste another minute here." ~Weightless, Nothing Personal, All-Time Low **again**  
**

**"This is a place where your mind can escape all the problems today and go far, far away." ~Welcome to Mystery, Almost Alice, Plain White T's**

**"I invite you to a world where there is no such thing as time and every creature lends themself to change your state of mind." ~Her Name is Alice, Almost Alice **again**, Shinedown**

**"Anything that can go wrong will go wrong." -Murphy's Law, source unknown**

**"Everybody's got their problems. Everybody says the same thing to you. It's just a matter of how y solve thouem and knowing how to change the things you've been through." ~Hell Song, Does This Look Infected?, Sum 41  
**

* * *

Scorpius' house is scary. It would be magnificent if only there were lights in the windows or if the foliage allowed any sunlight to reflect off of the polished panes. It would be magically wondrous if only there were two fine, loving parents waiting to welcome their only child and his friend.

If only.

An ominous creaking accompanied Scorpius' careful hand nudging the door open. He gestured to the ajar door, but I had already passed inside. Dubious and uncertain, he waited for a few more moments until passing inside and operating a complicated locking network.

I took advantage of this time to examine my lavish surroundings. Dozens of haughty, blond, and generally old portraits glared down from the walls. A grandiose chandelier hung delicately in the center, perfect in it's sparkling cylinders except for a dark red stain on one of the intricate crystals. Scorpius hissed softly, "James, come out of your cloak." I jumped; a snake was not out of place here, and for a wild moment I thought I might have inherited Dad's talent for their language. The cloak slid off at the motion, but I caught it before it hit the ground.

He saw my line of side and nodded grimly. "Don't worry, that's not the blood you should be worried about. Just a war artifact. Come on, I've got to show you your Christmas lodgings."

As he led me through the claustrophobic walls, I kept on asking myself, _What have I gotten into? _There was no time to think, however; Scorpius' pace was urgent and brisk, for good reason.

Soon, I faced a blank wall. The dead end, however, swiftly sank away to reveal a small enclosure of stone. Scorpius cleared his throat. "Um... Only a Malfoy or a Malfoy house-elf can open your this dungeon. Otherwise, express permission would have to be given, and only the man of the manor can grant that. So..."

"I'll be stuck here until you call me?"

"If you want, I could call transportation from outside the grounds and have them escort you home..." He looked absolutely miserable at the prospect.

I shook my head, trying to remember how this was all I had left. Surely it had to beat the hell that awaited me at my house? The hell of being ignored, of that devastating disappointment. Here was something past sad boredom. It was an adventure! I tried to rally my spirits into a wan smile. At least my carefully cultured acting abilities wouldn't go entirely to waste, I thought wryly as I beamed to my last friend. "As long as you don't forget about me, I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I knew what I was getting into," I lied easily, which brought my mind to Rose. Rose, the first to suggest that lying would be necessary, though likely not referring to this situation. Rose, constantly indicating in tiny and unintended and natural ways how she was a Slytherin, how this was possible, how that could be real. Uncle Ron loved to detail the adventures of the War as bedtime stories, seeing as he "hasn't any imagination of his own," as Aunt Hermione puts it, and the vivid scene in which Hermione insisted on invading the Ministry of Magic, despite being a widely prosecuted. The contrast set with her daughter's complacence at being left out of the action was stark.

"What are you thinking about?" he interrupted my musings.

"Rose," I said honestly.

"Oh..." His brow furrowed. "Yeah, I was worrying about her, too. I mean, that she might get in trouble, or get us caught." My interest perked, and I gestured for him to continue. "Well, I think she might have some residual potion on her, from when she was brewing it. Because I swear I caught a whiff of it on her in the station."

"What? No way, she doesn't smell anything like ocean mist and brownies."

"No, she doesn't smell like _that_, but- Nevermind. Forget I said anything."

"O-kay." Pregnant pause. "So... Are your parents going to care that you're a not Slytherin?" A reaction response, and an idiotic one at that, but at least it filled up some of the silence.

"Oh, it'll be alright. Mother's always proud of me. _He_'s never proud at all; I was a shame ever since I was born a Half-Blood."

In my old life, I would have either been vilified for my unwise insert or given a deferential silence to rectify my mistake. Instead a well-meant, overly honest response. How everything can change... Suddenly, I felt horribly exhausted. Why did this have to happen? Either I was a robot, or I was stranded in this jail, grappling something that may very well be far beyond my control. Is the golden concept of normal an illusion?

Once again, the silence was broken. "You know, since I have control of this cell, you don't have to live in total discomfort."

"That would be better," I said. It would seem less like a punishment.

"What do you want it to be like?" Scorpius asked, his back turned to me as he busied himself with dislodging his wand from his pocket. "Do you want it to be like your home? Hogwarts?"

"No!" I said, the emphatic monosyllabic response reverberating in the small room. "Uh, anything but that. Just make it different. Interesting."

"Alright..." he began muttering instructions to himself, or perhaps the room itself. "magic allowed... a window... um... thoughts... fairly small... large... comfortable space... bathing area... no chains... no food... no apparition... wall colors... mood ring... carpeting... mushrooms... not poisonous, no... bed... um... down...out." As he spoke, our surroundings transformed. In a psychedelic array of colors, shapes, and changes in topography that had me clutching the mushrooms- mushrooms?- for my life, the room had completely transformed. And Scorpius had left.

I sponged across the mushroom stepping stones/carpet towards my bed and sat as the walls settled at a comfortable kiwi green. A window was behind me, but I didn't glance at it yet. I didn't want to lose myself in this _different, interesting_ abode I had for myself.

Pretty soon, I had the mushroom paths, fickle wall colors, and broadcasting window figured out, so I flopped back onto the down comforter of my bed and gazed sightlessly at the unchanged stone ceiling.

This stretch of ceiling was the only object that could possibly hold any residual memories of our conversation. Scorpius' response came back to me... "Mother's always proud of me. _He_'s never proud at all." They didn't care about Sorting at all. How did his parents' indifference compare to that of mine? My parents, who take it for granted that I pass in school, that I don't come to them for advice and stay healthy. His parents, who are understandably caught up in their own drama. Rose's parents, who are trying to accept her for who she has become.

Would the success of this plan change anything? Scorpius' mom will finally be free, free to love her son, free to live her life, free to do whatever Scorpius'-mom-things out there. And maybe Rose's parents would be assured that she was still a good, empathetic person. And me... There was no way my parents would ignore this. There was no way they could keep ignoring me. This time, _I_ was in the spotlight. This time, I could be the favorite, for once... or at least up to par. But wouldn't that by hypocritical? To try to put myself atop of the system I despise, rather than rebel against it. It was just like the popularity ideal I had based the last two years of my life on.

Like we would even succeed. Every moment that passed outlined the glaring flaws in the plan, outlined possible dead ends, disasters, and dooms. Did that make me a pessimist, or a realist? Or were the two the same?

Perhaps Pandora's box passed me over when it came along. Well, no, it can't have completely; I have my share of problems. But where is my healthy hope? Why can I not actually believe that change will not happen?

Maybe it's because it hasn't yet. In thirteen years, I have waited for it to. Maybe, maybe... maybe that's the problem. I've been waiting. There must be action to initiate the change. Well, now I've acted. I've torn out of the chains of popularity, discarded the restraints of house estrangement. Where have these revolutionary actions gotten me? Well, in a sanity-challenging box, in which only person could possibly ever get me out and feed me... What if something happens, and he doesn't get food to me in time?... I'd just have to summon Kreacher (like Uncle Ron said worked last time they found themselves in the Malfoy dungeons) and ditch the plan, it's stupid anyway and not worth dying for... but no need to worry about those kinds of things yet, just being prepared...

All of these details, these vital details, overlooked in the invisible hours on the Astronomy Tower where I, Rose, and Scorpius deliberated. How did we ever find this plausible? Possible?

The Malfoys' (or, conversely, the Greengrasses') freedom, the Weasleys' peace, the Potters' equality... implausible? impossible?

Problems can't just be solved by attacking blindly. Doesn't the root have to be the target for any offense to be effective? So... why... why don't they like me as much as Albus or Lily? I don't care as much about Lily; she's adorable, everyone loves her. But what makes Albus better? Not the eyes. So long I've deluded myself that it was the eyes, but honestly, how could anything be so simple? _Nothing_'s simple. Albus is less devious. He's less loopy; more straightforward, more assertive. Less confident, more of a worrywart. But parents are supposed to not pick favorites. We're all their children, why can't... why can't they be perfect?!

And oh crap, I just remembered. Albus is still mad at me, isn't he? After all of this, his last impression of me is my stubborn insistence on isolating Rose. Honestly, of all of the things...! I deserve it, of course, but if only I could make it up to him, if only I could confess and tell him that I was wrong. To have my own brother hate me... Somehow, in the strange, dreamlike state that my room and solitude had left me in, this devastated me the most of all of the threats, of the imminent danger and all of that... Or maybe it's the hormones...

The door banged open with an interesting 'pop!' "Dude," panted Scorpius, and with a glance at the flashing walls, "Calm the hell down, sort yourself out, get the cloak and the potion. It's time... Mum greeted me; she's scared; Dad's waking up; he's ready for his shots... It's time."

* * *

_A/N: "the glaring flaws in the plan"= DH reference, haha. Okay, sorry, Harry Potter amuses me. Which is why I'm writing fanfiction, I suppose. AND Scorpius saying "It's time" twice is not a mistake.  
_

_Yeah, sorry about the surplus of Almost Alice quotes. But I've fallen in love with that album, especially Welcome to Mystery, Tea Party, and Follow Me Down. Her Name is Alice, the Lobster Quadrille, Strange, and Painting Flowers rock, too. _

_A return to a mostly introverted perspective from James, just to set the stage for anything to happen and to connect the story back. As it reaches it's end (sorry guys, but that's how it goes! We're right near the climax, then there's falling action, resolution, and... it'll be done...) I'm going to have to tie it back to the beginning more and more. This was also by suggestion of Lietus, who leaves amazing reviews and through aforementioned reviews reminded me that although I always designated a few paragraphs in the beginning of the chapter to James' feelings, I still was neglecting to give James the entire center stage.  
_

_ Also, a bit of symbolism in here, which pleases me to no end. Did anyone catch it (please say yes?)_

_Lady Stephy: Teehee, yeah, not quite at all what you expected. "bringing the dead back to life"? Isn't necromancy illegal in magical terms, according to J. K. Rowling and Wizarding philosopher Bertrand de Pensees-Profondes' A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter? (I did not just make that up). I just couldn't help poking fun at your joke. But I'm glad you like this plan anyhow. No, you're not a pessimist. The issue with Rose's plan is that it had no consideration for any time of inconvenience; it is dependent on it's own success. There are no backups._

_Katie: Yes, the twist will come up, to be sure. And I answered your amortentia question a bit abstractly. I updated! It's okay! You're misery is over!!  
_

_Lietus: Do you still miss James? Believe me, I was honored to receive such a review in the first place! Yeah, I guess relating can be difficult. You could simply imagine a loved one being in danger, being hurt, being close to death, etc... Eh. I won't force you to, I suppose. It's well enough for you to like this! :) As I said to Lady Stephy, the plan has no backups, no safety nets, etc. I think I've shown enough that it's not going to work, beyond foreshadowing at this point... If the story stays on schedule, we'll be done in month. Now _that_'s scary._

_mjmusiclover: Yes, unusual indeed. And it's nice that you're here._

_Lalalala.... The next chapter will come next week, as usual. Until then, review, hang tight, and listen to Almost Alice!  
_


	8. Calm

_Calm, Chapter Eight._

**"3 PM: On my feet and staggerin'. Through misplaced words and a sinking feeling I got carried away. Sick, sick of sleeping on the floor- another night, another score. I'm jaded, bottles breaking." ~Stella, _Nothing Personal_, All-Time-Low **again**  
**

**"Let the green girl go!" -Fiyero, _Wicked: A New Musical_**

**_"_The more he drank, the more polished became his manners." -Of Rhett Butler, _Gone With the Wind_ **again**_  
_**

**"Do you feel like a man when you push her around? Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?... Face down in the dirt, she says, 'This doesn't hurt.'" ~Facedown, _Don't You Fake It_, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus**

**"I hear a scream, from down the hall- Amazing she can even talk at all. She cries to me, 'Go back to bed.' I'm terrified- she'll wind up dead." ~Never Again, _Silver Side Up_, Nickelback**

* * *

In my invisibility cloak, I slunk upstairs beside Scorpius, who was even paler than usual. The grand platter shook in his hand, the delicate wine glass of poison sloshing dangerously. For poison, its smell was deceptively sweet- brownies wafted through the air, and I wondered how any man could mistake this smell for drink, or even the strong, throat burning stench of firewhiskey.

A decrepit, morose house-elf stared beadily through me and at Scorpius. Luckily for us, he saw nothing but Scorpius picking up the tray, his wand stowed in his pocket where it could do no damage to the drinks.

The grand winding staircase, with the gilded railing and the sparkling decor, seemed to fill a room in itself, neverending. Would it be better that way? Never ceasing, neverending, never closure, never knowing? Then we reached the top.

A tall man with a sour countenance and a carelessly elegant manner stood right at the top, hand out expectantly. I had been expecting a hobbling, out-of-his-mind drunk- instead there was only this finely dressed personalized pinnacle of high society. I felt as though I had been duped somehow, and I certainly was confused.

"Scorpius," the man drawled. "Hurry up, now. Wouldn't want to keep your Father waiting."

The boy's eyes narrowed, but he quickened his pace, as did I beside him, a hand on his shoulder to remind him that I was there.

"Ah..." Draco Malfoy said. "My dearest friend, my darkest enemy. We drink to death." The goblet was in his hand, and seemed to be his object of conversation. He raised it to his lips, but lowered it again. "Don't you smell odd. A bit like firewhiskey, but not this brand at all. Not this one at all. Don't you smell powerful, my friend..." Without warning, the glass crashed to the floor, as well as my hopes and dreams of success. Scorpius did not flinch. The words rose several decibels. "Spiked my drink and thought it'd be funny?! Thought it'd be funny, when I was on the ground and twitching like a maniac, did you? Well, I know it's not. In my day, it was oak-matured mead to that coot, but didn't it so haunt me in the end... Who put you up to it, then? Eleven year old twit, you haven't the devilment in you to do such a thing. Or maybe you do. The devils are everywhere in these places."

_The devils aren't _everywhere_, you bastard,_ I thought, scowling. _Look a little closer._

"Tori!" he called softly, but assertively. "Tori, where are you? Is this your next escape plan? Homicide? Using our own son as an asset?"

At the mention of Scorpius, a beautiful blonde woman with the same striking brown eyes I had so oft noted in her child emerged. "Don't call him 'your son.' And Malfoy, I thought I had made it clear that 'Tori' is a name reserved for my friends."

"We're married, aren't we? No one cares what we want, it's just the press and the money whispering in their ears," he began advancing on her. "Like it or not, you're my wife, and no one gives a da*m about what happens in this house." _I do_, I mentally refuted, but I knew that this wasn't the place. I wasn't supposed to interfere; and besides, it might only further incense the volatile Malfoy, who was dangerous enough. A lion stalking his prey- the defiant gazelle matching his gaze.

"Don't hurt her!" Scorpius shouted, brushing my hand off of his shoulder. "Don't dare!"

"Why not? It's her fault I'm in this accursed place, innit? Can't I at least live how I want, then?- You can't order me around," the elder snarled, and whipped around. "_Stupefy!_" Asteria tried to raise her wand to deflect the spell, but a large, hardly-healed wound impeded the movement and she crumpled to the ground.

Once again, Scorpius did not react other than his glare becoming more pronounced; he had seen it too many times before, knew she wasn't dead. I didn't, however, and rushed to her side, my invisible hand snaking to her wrist. There was a pulse, her breathing was ragged but present, her skin was warm and soft. Her breath hitched at my touch, and I knew she had awakened; I don't blame her for being a light sleeper. I dropped to her ear, and hissed, "Don't worry. I'm here to help." She relaxed again, and tried to finger her wand, but her wounded arm wouldn't obey her. I turned my focus to the two male Malfoys, both staring each other down.

"This is the chain of command, son," the man said, his voice calm again. "I've told you enough times. I've been patient enough. You're eleven now; how long does it take for the message to stick in your head?" Scorpius didn't respond. He was checking himself, I could tell, furiously restraining himself from eviscerating his father, or something on similar lines. "When I was small, my Father hid the world from me. He hid reality, so that when I found out, I was lost. But now I'm telling you that this is life. There are Mudbloods, there are wives, and we do what we can to keep them in their place. So, as I said before, f***ing stay out of it. You'll get your turn when you're older."

"What- WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Scorpius screamed; the structure seemed to be shaking from the echo. I was at his side in an instant, trying to place a placating arm on his elbow. For some reason, Dad's lightly spoken words came to mind, "Don't duel with anyone 'til you've learned how."

"I've never hurt you, Scorpius. Perhaps I ought to have, hm? But I've never blamed you for your mother's mistakes, like people were so wont to blame me for my father's."

"And you blame my mother?! NO, JAMES!" He ripped his arm away from me, and the cloak slid to the ground, leaving me totally exposed. The nearsightedness of the cloak gone, I had a chance to fully appreciate the situation at hand: father and son, looking for all the world like the same person, Scorpius' eyes glinting grey in a trick of light.

"Scorpius, you've only been at Hogwarts for three months!" I joined in, figuring any plan had fallen to shreds by now. I was honestly frightened, now, of both of them.

"SHUT UP!" He cried to me, and shoved me away, tears streaming frankly down his young cheeks from his now very visibly brown eyes as he turned towards his father. "Well, I blame YOU for your mistakes! Crucio!" His wand emitted a small spark that instantly fizzed out. Impatiently, he shook it, as thought the spell might fall out of it. "D*** it! Work!"

Draco Malfoy's eyes, still silver in comparison, narrowed. By now, I knew that he was not sober, even while he acted so quietly; it must have been sheer drunkenness that kept him from noticing me. "I've been too easy on you, I see it now. Perhaps you need chastisement yourself. _Cru-_"

"Perhaps you'll be remembering what happened the last time you tried that spell in my presence," came a familiar voice from the doorway. The man himself blanched. "Put your wand down, Malfoy. Or you won't need it anymore." We all turned to see the newest arrival, so calmly threatening with enough power to bring this indefatigable monster to peaceable surrender. With a few words, the storm clouds had vanished, to be replaced with an indecipherable calm. Behind him stood a flock of Aurors (which explained the shuddering floor.) Beside him stood Uncle Ron.

I didn't know whether I should be feeling upset or pleased or ashamed. Upset that he had come, pleased that he would help, ashamed that I had needed it. But by now I should have known that I couldn't control my emotions _for beans_. Definitely not here, not around him.

Dad had arrived.

* * *

_A/N: Woohoo! So at least the plan was cut off from the beginning. We'll see more of its failings later on, but at least now we can wipe the sweat from our foreheads that it didn't come anywhere close to fruition. BTW, I KNOW I said that Harry was a Quidditch player, and Ron was the Auror. I'll explain his presence next chapter.  
_

_I'd like to clarify a few things here, because I know that I'm writing about a particularly delicate subject. According to the National Violence Against Women Survey, as analyzed in Extent, Nature, and Consequences of Intimate Partner Violence, 32 million Americans alone suffer from domestic violence. So this might be personal. I just want to make two things clear: 1) Men are the victims just as much as women are. They are simply 32% less likely to report it, according to Justice Department studies. The reason the wife is the victim here is because it fit the story better, and **not** because it is the more likely form. 2) Much abuse is not physical. Sexual, emotional, verbal and economic abuse is also prevalent in these relationships. While physical and verbal abuse are the only types implicitly discussed in this story, there is much more to such problems. (It is also possible/probable that Asteria in this story suffers from other kinds as well, even if it's not discussed.) Note that Harry himself has suffered from abuse from his aunt and uncle, and so this is not the first instance of it in the Harry Potter world._

_Serious moment over, I shall address my faithful reviewers:_

_Lady Stephy- The climax has come! Egads! - I amuse myself. No, that word amuses me. Teehee, never read the books, and I haven't watched the movie yet (though I SO want to!) Topsy Turvy? I haven't listened to that one nearly as much as the others, only because as a bonus track I only recently discovered it. (Now I'm listening to it, though.) "Wake me, I've had enough... Up or down, tears on the ground..." It's an awesome song so far. :) Beats Avril Lavigne's Alice for sure (the screaming parts hurt my ears. I apologize)._

_Lietus- :D Sorry, dear, James is pretty invisible in this chapter. Um, pun unintended. Well, I didn't leave him stranded and starving in the mushroom dungeon. A dark Albus? Wow, that sounds really deep. I would totally read something with that kind of characterization. That just sounds fantastic. Anyway, my characterization of Albus is fairly shallow at the moment. But it'll do for this tale. Yeah, that line is the all-time teenage question. It sure haunted me at the time. Why can't they be perfect? Why can't they be wise? Are they all we have to look up to? _

_mjmusiclover- Aw, I'm sorry you had to go through that. I hope the resolution to come satisfies you._

_Katie- I think Albus is a bit more like Harry naturally anyway, or at least James is a bit more different. In the same way, though, aren't we all a bit the same and a bit different? The eye thing- that's what James thought, too. But all problems have to be a bit more than skin deep. I mean, Harry can't be that shallow, right? I was thinking Teddy the moment you mentioned him... Hm, I've got to remember to include him or he's going to disappear.  
_

_AJ- I love you! Yay! (Oh, I know this individual in person, so I promise I'm not a creepy internet stalker.) I updated just for you! ...and because I always update this story on the weekend.  
_

_Hm, that's weird. I've been using "-" instead of ":"... Oh well. Hope you liked the chapter! See you next week!  
_


	9. Necessity

Necessity, Chapter Nine.

**"Would you have the guts to say: I don't love you like I did yesterday?" ~I Don't Love You, _The Black Parade_, My Chemical Romance**

**"What do you want, Miggery Sow?!" -Pea, _Tale of Despereaux_, Kate DiCamillo  
**

**"Old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young." -**You'd better know where this is from.

**"It takes two to tango." -Idiom**

**"All of us- including me- have within ourselves the wickedness of a serpent and the gentleness of a dove." -Elen of the Sapphire Eyes, _the Seven Songs of Merlin_, T. A. Barron  
**

**"And I will try to fix you." ~Fix You, _X & Y_, Coldplay  
**

**

* * *

**

After the Aurors arrived, cleaning up the mess of the Malfoy's was relatively simple. A small group, directed by Uncle Ron, quickly conjured a stretcher and, with a _Mobilicorpus!_, promised to deliver her to St. Mungo's straight away.

Meanwhile, Dad swiftly scaled the stairs and confronted Mr. Malfoy. "Draco Lucius Malfoy," he said, with a steely look in his eye the likes of which I'd never seen, "You are hereby arrested for the attempted use of a Unforgivable Curse on a minor, and assault on a Mrs. Astoria Greengrass Malfoy." Draco looked furious and raised his wand again, only to be disarmed by a second intruder.

"Harry!" panted Uncle Ron, who had ascended the stairs only a few paces behind. Apparently there were anti-Apparition wards inside the Manor; maybe that was what prevented Astoria from escaping. "I've got to read him his rights! Slow down, mate."

"The Malfoys were given a pardon for out anti-You-Know-You rebellious acts, and I fail to see how you can presume-"

"Shut up, Draco. You have the right to remain silent, as anything you say can and will be used against you, you prat. Better, Ron?"

While they were occupied with boring legalities and such, Scorpius and I slunk away to my dungeon. To my disappointment, it had completely reverted to the stone layout. There was no need for its brightness; its purpose had been served, its occupant's stay was complete.

"Wow!" exclaimed Scorpius, his eyes bright, though salt tracks still marred his face. "We did it! Well, not really... But it's done!"

"Yeah..." I said, trying and failing to muster some triumph. Instead, I felt my spirits droop slightly. All of the things I had- which did not amount to much, seeing as they were pretty superficial and fake anyway- I had gladly tossed away for this endeavor. But now that it was over, I wasn't really sure what was left. Scorpius had his family back, but I was alone as ever.

"James," Scorpius' grin had faded. "What's wrong?"

"No," I said, sniffling a bit and feeling like a five-year old. "No, I'm being selfish; this is your day. You're mom is free! Draco Malfoy is gonna rot in Azkaban! Celebrate!"

Rather than take my advice, he took me into a hug. Not one of those awkward guy things, like a pat on the back or the one-armed heave- this was a real embrace, like I should be getting from my parents... My parents. "James," Scorpius said fiercely. "Don't let anyone ever call you selfish. Look at yourself, look at where you are! You hauled ass to get here, to perform some half-baked plan for a meager chance at the happiness of some random pitiful first-year. You've never asked for anything, but you gave everything; time, effort, safety, comfort... for me. Don't call yourself selfish!" We separated, and he sat, gesturing for me to join him. As always, he seemed completely at ease with himself, and I was completely not. "I owe you one, big time. So tell me what's wrong."

"It sounds so lame," I sighed, reluctantly giving in. He'd bared his skeletons, and therefore I'd have to bare mine. "Dad likes Albus better than me and Mom likes Lily best, and I'm just 'the other kid' that they have to feed and pay school tuition for. That's it, okay? Happy?"

"I'm sorry, James," was all he said, though it did help a bit. There was a moment of silence. "We probably have to return aboveground, or the parentals will get worried."

I stood. "Yeah."

When we reached the "lobby" of their house, as I call it, we were accosted by Aurors. Once they established that we were relatively safe and healthy, Dad beckoned me to him. For the first time, I noticed Mum there, too.

"James, we need to talk," Dad said sternly, wheeling me around to go outside, where there would be no witnesses but the albino peacocks. I knew it was a necessity that we'd have to sort this out sooner or later, but I didn't want it to happen _now_. Scorpius caught my panicky expression and ran to my aid. "Erm... who is this?" To Dad's credit, he didn't respond negatively to his old arch-rival's son.

"I'm Scorpius," said he, gripping my arm tightly. "And I'm not leaving James."

"Scorpius, we're trying to have a private family discussion right now. Surely you could wait a few moments?"

"Sorry, sir, but I've really got to be here. I'll try not to bother you too much, but as this whole situation has a lot to do with me, I'd appreciate being involved."

"So be it, then," Dad said, shrugging. He leaned on an enchanted fountain, while Mum stood tall. "James, I have to ask you this, and I want you to answer me, no nonsense. What is going on here?"

I bit the inside of my lip, trying to think of an appropriate answer, but Scorpius responded for me. "It started with me, Mr. Potter. I was having some familial problems, as you might have gathered from the scene earlier. So, James wanted to discreetly help me solve my problem."

"...And what was the idea behind this?"

"Well... We were going to spike Mr. Malfoy's alcohol with love potion so he'd like his wife," I explained very quickly.

"You _what?!"_ Mum cried.

"Even possession of such a substance is absolutely illegal. Do you want a criminal record?"

In frustration, I emitted a small "Ugh! Don't you get it? I had to help him! His mum could die without it!"

"And with it, she could be raped," Mum said, clearly distraught by the idea. "Obsession couldn't help her escape. A love potion would only bury her deeper!"

Raising a hand timidly, Scorpius mumbled, "We didn't know sorry. Our intentions were good."

"Yeah!" I snarled, "If I were your precious Lily or Albus, you wouldn't be scolding me like this. You would be comforting me, like 'aww you poor baby you had to see that', or 'you did your best to help' or something, not telling me 'you didn't do it right.' Yeah, I guess I screwed up, right? Nothing I do is worth note, or pride. I'm just an arrogant little twit who goes around spiking drinks and dragging you guys down, distracting you from doting on your perfect daughter and your perfect green-eyed son."

"James!" Mum said, shaking her pretty head in confusion. "What brought this on?"

"Nothing," I sighed. They'd never get it anyway. "How did you get here?"

"Answer your mother-" started Dad mechanically, but Mum interrupted, "Harry, give it a rest. He'll tell us if he wants to."

"He wants to, but he isn't," Dad grumbled, looking fairly helpless. "Why else would he have started?"

"Fine! It's just that I'm tired of being the least loved," I said quietly, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Dad: "You're not-" He tried for a pat on the shoulder, but I knocked it away vehemently.

"Don't lie to me. Albus is so sweet and timid and has the famous Evans eyes, just like you. Lily's the youngest girl of a few rough-and-tumble blokes, just like you. And who am I? I resemble James Potter in name. I resemble Uncle Ron in eyes. I resemble Uncle George in humor. I don't belong to anyone." I glanced at Scorpius, who was silent and still, just as I was earlier when he had been confronting his father.

There was a thick, palpable silence. Everyone's attention pretended to be elsewhere. Mum stared at her shoes; Dad admired the enchanted fountain- magic always enthralled him; Scorpius imagined shapes in the clouds. It was Mum who broke the silence with a whisper. "We're so sorry, James." And then in a flurry of movement, I found myself in her arms, my head nestled in her neck. I hadn't had a hug like this in so long- last time I remember, my ear was to her abdomen. She stroked my hair, murmuring, "my poor baby." It was something I'd heard her say so many times, directed towards Lily or Albus. I felt almost ashamed to be compared to them, so much younger than I, but the warmth of her embrace overrode my doubts. She gently released me and brushed her eyes, and Dad halved the distance between us.

"We love you so much," he said in a strange voice, his hand resting gently on my cheek. "Please. Tell me you know that." I nodded, trying not to tear up; my expression was mirrored in Mum's face.

Dad dropped his hand and fiddled with his fingers uncomfortably. Once again, Mum was the first to speak. Her voice, though wavering, was stronger; her words, carefully placed. "What do you want us to do?"

"Er," I said, faltering at the response. I had predicted there to be excuses, denial, or putting-it-off-as-hormones. They had surpassed my expectations; they were braver and wiser and in my bemoaning and angst and righteous anger, I had missed that. They were Gryffindors, too. They were adults, and certainly nothing like Scorpius' Dad in parenting.

"When you were born," Dad began at my lack of response, partly to fill the silence that so agonized both of us, "we had no idea what to expect of a baby. Sure, we'd seen Teddy, but we hadn't really babysat or anything. So we did our best with you, and we were pretty certain that you turned out all right."

"You were so independent, it seemed. After Albus and Lily were born, they were such a contrast to your natures that we assumed..."

I interrupted her; I didn't want to hear any more about the past. "How about this, then? Listen to me when I want to say something. And don't spoil Albus and Lily. ...And... I don't know, okay?! Why do _I_ have to think of it? Why do _I_ have to fix _you_?" Tears would not fall. I would not _let them_. "You figure it out. I just want to feel like you care."

Mum glanced down again, but her determinedly dry eyes quickly snapped up to meet mine. Meanwhile, a peacock had started nudging and nestling Scorpius' legs, and he was petting it kindly.

"We're so sorry," Mum said again, Dad agreeing awkwardly.

He then added, "Just believe me, whatever happens, that we're going to try."

That was it. We had fulfilled the necessity of confrontation. It ended with me saying, "I know." I did know. I knew that they were going to do their best, and I knew that it might not be enough, it wouldn't be completely well, it couldn't be perfect. But I knew that it was going to be better.

And right now, better is fine with me.

* * *

_A/N: All right, so this is probably the second to last chapter. This resolves the main conflict, but I still have a few things that need to come together, like that cameo appearance of Teddy that I promised Katie. :) Tell me, my rapacious readers: is this a satisfactory resolution? I wanted it to be good, but not unrealistically good or in a way that downplays the problem._

_Now, to those of the last chapter:_

_Lady Stephy: Since I'm doing a lot of stuff with the Malfoy family, I'm going to copy and paste my explanation to another reader (who PMed me about the Greengrass=pureblood slytherin? issue) here: _

_The notes from which HP Lexicon got the information of the Greengrass' blood status were very rough. Neville's last name was still Puff and Cho Chang was a first year named Li Su (rather than a 2nd year). So, although JKR may have once intended their blood to be pure, this is not a canon source. Even HP-Lexicon states: "this document can't really be considered canon." Even if she never intended them to be anything less than pureblood, she probably also never intended Draco to be an abusive husband._

_ As the Greengrasses aren't mentioned much at all (one mention of Daphne in OP, and their blood status is sketchy at the most,) I can live with my Greengrasses being muggles._  
_ Muggleborns can survive in Slytherin. If you are a Slytherin by personality, you have the cunning to survive and get your way, even against adversity. Plus, Daphne being is a Slytherin is also information from those notes which "can't really be considered canon," (the same notes which had actually named her as Queenie so even knowing that Daphne and Queenie isn't writ in stone.)_

_Thank you for being perceptive. _

_HARRY POTTER, OUR ETERNAL SAVIOR! mwa!_

_xandromedax: Yeah, Scorpius IS spunky! It's kind of funny, that having Draco Malfoy as a father spurs him to become a Gryffindor. It's like reverse-psychology, Sirius Black style. And I'm glad to have a new reviewer, as always! _

_Katie: A huge cliffhanger? I hadn't thought of it that way, but I suppose it is. And how did they know? Well, that's coming in the next chapter. James tries to ask, but Harry and Ginny segue him back to more pressing matters (for them). Yeah, Scorpius and mother are going to have a lovely time- well, most of the time. They'll probably have a lot of the issues of the single mother scenario, but it's definitely a big relief to have Ashley- whoops, I mean, Draco- off of her shoulders. Funny that Gone With the Wind came to mind...  
_

_AJ: I liked the comparison of Harry coming to the rescue to Dumbledore in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. So much that I subconsciously compared them in this chapter! Wow! Now, as for the career comments: Harry doesn't need to do Quidditch for the fame; he needs it for the fun! He's been cheated out of a childhood by nonstop attacks by Voldemort/Death Eaters/Dursleys, and he's had "enough trouble for a lifetime" by the time he's 17 5/6 years old. I think he deserves to have a more comfortable pastime, though of course he's welcome to make intrusions on his best mate's work whenever he so wants. :) I was actually really miffed when Mrs. Rowling announced that Harry's future career was to be an Auror; it just seems really dumb to me. Of course he won't be left out of the action, but he needs to live off something other than an inexhaustible supply of evil.  
_

_Shadrac: Yeah, it was pretty short, though I did try to disguise it with a super-long a/n. Sorry about that; I'm not that good at action-y stuffs. Yeah. OH, by saying that "we're at the climax," I meant that we were ABOUT to delve into the climax, not that we had just passed the climax. Sorry. It was badly worded of me. 2: Haha, sorry, I can't do murder. Honestly, do we want James and Scorpius to forever see thestrals, and for Harry to split his soul? Remember what Harry said about Peter Pettigrew. Death is too good for Draco. If we want Draco to be punished, there's nothing worse than Azkaban for him. And I'm not going to let Draco turn into a rodent and run away like Pettigrew- :( That made me so sad in the third book. Everything was going so well and then it all had to go wrong! Yeah, anywayses- I'm so sorry that you had to live with this kind of stuff. Did I do it justice?  
_

_Wow, I just had this wave of sadness for Sirius, at him having to live in Azkaban for so long. :( Well, anyway, moving on... The last chapter is coming up! Make sure you review to remind me of those leftover loose ends, because this is my last shot to fill you in!_


	10. Epilogue: Rose's Turn

Rose's Turn, Epilogue.

**"Here she is, boys! Here she is, world! Here's Rose!" -Momma Rose, _Gypsy_, number: Rose's Turn**

**"A woman is like an artichoke; you have to do a bit of work before you get to her heart." -Inspector Jacques Clouseau, _Pink Panther_, 2006**

**"I definitely have strong feelings for you. I just haven't decided if they're positive or negative yet." -Annabeth Chase, _Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief_, 2010**

**"We have it in our power to start the world over." -Thomas Paine, _Common Sense_, 1776**

* * *

Ha! Using my fantastic _Slytherin _cunning, I, the one and only Rose Weasley, have managed to snatch James' narrative right from under his nose!

Eh. The intro needs work. Perhaps I'm not a catalystic, angsty teen like James, but bear with me, won't you?

Speaking of James, his life seems to be at least marginally better. His parents are trying harder, and he doesn't bottle things up anymore. Q. E. D. there have been precisely three (or four?) instances in which voices are raised in the Potter residence. Dad said jokingly, "Well, mate, at least this is a phase you can understand," which led to an extensively amusing evening in which the Granger-Weasleys (and Teddy, who had visited and simultaneously forgiven me for dishonesty) imagined/reminisced Uncle Harry throwing teenager tantrums.

"Rose, I don't see Scorpius yet!" James said, attempting to peer over everyone's shoulders. Poor, growth-spurt-deprived boy whose build is fashioned after Aunt Ginny. This distraction, I might note, is what allowed me to replace him.

"There's twenty minutes till the train, James," I sighed, rolling my eyes. And he wonders why Muggle pedotricians (or something like that) say the girls develop before boys! "One might think you've had enough of him for three weeks. Surely you have the patience of _ten more minutes_."

He stuck out his tongue, and I abandoned my disapproving and haughty countenance to laugh. I really did love James sometimes (in an entirely familial way, because anything else would be gross.) And his free, joyful mood swings were far preferable from those stiff, forced conversations. I only hoped that this wouldn't disappear the moment we stepped on the train, that he wouldn't readopt the supposedly "popular" culture that had forsaken him before, out of fear or loneliness. I hoped that he would remember how much lonelier he used to be.

Apparently, sometimes XYs never fully mature. Dad, also too impatient to wait any longer, surprised me by placing his arm on my shoulder. I glanced up, but he evaded any awkward confessions, instead saying mock-sternly, "Do you remember what I told you in the beginning of the year?"

"Come on! He's not a pureblood at all!" I countered automatically, before the blood rushed to my cheeks and cursed my quick tongue. Had I just defended Scorpius as a suitable marriage contender? Darn this stupid Ron-Weasley flush. Dad verbally conceded defeat, but with a certainly insufferable smirk. I playfully socked him in the shoulder, causing him to yelp, "Ah! You've got the right hook of your mother!"

I smiled a bit more, glad that it was only Dad and the distracted James present. Merlin, if Hugo was here he would never let me live this do-

"Hey Rose, this guy had better get my permission before he does anything to you," announced Hugo, wagging his finger and looking absolutely ecstatic. _Arrgh_, was my sophisticated refrain as I hid my face in my hands. To top off a perfect morning, James' thirst was quenched.

"Hi James, hi Rose, sorry I'm late!... Er, do you have a zit or something?"

I lifted my head and glared at the four boys. Why wouldn't anyone save me? Mum, Aunt Ginny, anyone! Luckily, the whole bunch arrived; little Lily, Mum, James' parents, and Albus suddenly appeared beside us. There was a fair bit of tension between us and the latter- it was he who had told our parents, having overheard Scorpius and James discussing the meeting place in the common room and had stealthily followed us to the Astronomy Tower. Of the four of us, he had been the only level-headed one, and the only to realize the only thing to be done- he spilled the beans. Apparently relations between he and James were near nonexistent; Scorpius didn't quite know what to think, and I was the only one who felt that she should support Scorpius but lacked the bravery to do it.

"Hi," Scorpius said. "Are you by any chance Albus Severus Potter?"

"Yeah," Al said warily. "Who's asking?"

"Scorpius Ma- Greengrass." I noticed Dad's hand fall from my shoulder, in surprise, I expect, and then appreciated for the first time that it was once there. Somehow, both of them, James and Dad, had finally been able to accept that I was the same person as always. For the first time, my Slytherinhood hadn't even been touched upon- though I nearly mentioned it when defending Scorpius. Equality- what we had all subconsciously been fighting for. Scorpius for his mother against his father, James for himself against his siblings, and I for my present against past.

"Ah," Al said shortly. "Heard a bit about me, then?"

"Yeah, a bit... or more," Scorpius said, "As you certainly snore like a bear in the dormitories."

Scorpius certainly knew how to handle people, I marvelled. No wonder James thought him a threat to his popularity, no wonder it was almost impossible to not warm up to him. In a sentence, the tension had been vanquished.

Meanwhile, I withdrew from the conversation to find Mum tapping me on the shoulder. "Dear," she said cheerfully, "You've been at Harry and Ginny's place all break. How've you been?"

"Oh, I've been well," I said, unsure of what she wanted. "So, do you guys think you've ruined me completely? Going to do better by Hugo?"

"No!" she exclaimed, and I felt a bit guilty for provoking this response. "It's marvelous that you're in Slytherin- well, a tad unexpected, but if it's who you are, then we still love you."

"Alright, I know," I agreed, deciding to stop fishing for compliments and get down to the actual business. "Um... I'm sorry that my stupid plan almost killed James and that I lied to you."

Mum shook her head. "Oh, dear, don't be upset. Just- just make sure you know everything before you do this kind of thing in the future, 'kay?" I stared up at her, amazed, having expected a 'don't-you-ever-do-that-again' tirade. "Oh, I have a lot of experience in overestimation. Nice work on the potion, though. From the sample that James brought back, you concocted it perfectly. I could only whip up something of that complexity in second year, and you'd had but a fourth of my magical experience. Yes, in my day a lack of study led to five and a half weeks in the Hospital Wing." She smiled at some random adventurous memory, then snapped back to attention. "So- oh, the Hogwarts Express is coming in a few minutes, you ought to rejoin the family."

"Yeah. Thanks, Mum." It was only after boarding that I noticed that she had included Scorpius in "the family."

"That was nice of her," I remarked aloud, albeit quietly.

"What?"

"Oh, never mind." I'd forgotten that in the silence of the only half-full Hogwarts Express any utterance would be clearly heard in the compartment. "It was nothing."

"Galleon for your thoughts?"

"Inflation's really a pain, huh," I responded evasively, and then had to stifle a snicker when Scorpius didn't get it. I did hope that they would return to whatever they had been talking about, though- the chances of James getting Teddy to live permanently with him, I expect. Or vice versa.

"Well, anyway," James spoke, as I had hoped, "I'm the attention hog here, so let's ignore the annoyingly secretive Slytherin and get back to moi." He said it in jest, not seriously, and that was a substantial enough development to rouse me from my slumber. "Joking aside, I don't really know what to do. I get that I've got to get myself out of that crap, but I just invested the last two and a half years into it, which is pretty important. All of my friends are there..."

"Well, then, perhaps you're sitting in the wrong seat," Scorpius said, which apparently made sense to James, who half-smiled, despite it's lack of parallelism to anything. At least I wasn't going completely insane, as Albus' confused expression mirrored mine. Scorpius and James continued without notice.

"But still, it's not like I can start over- It's not like I can just go up to people saying, hey, what's your name, can I be your best friend? I made my choice!" His voice took on a sarcastic tone, though the pleading note broke through anyway, "Oh, clever one, to whom can I take refuge?"

"Well," Scorpius scrunched his face, like it was a difficult question. He suggests acne to me (my face is still unblemished, thank Merlin!) but ignores a cracked voice?

I rolled my eyes, at both them and the corniness of what I was about to express. "How about a riddle, then, if you can comprehend? No names, but I'll give you this hint: You've always been _our_ favorite..."

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**Fin.**

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_A/N: I wish it wasn't over, but... yeah. It is. Sorry I switched up the protagonists on you, but it was the easiest way to get you a quick chapter (as I already wrote a one-shot this weekend and therefore my quota has been filled) because I am a girl (as you may have inferred by the "lass" in Loonynamelass) and therefore it's just more natural. Or maybe that's bs, but... yeah, I have missed it. For some reason, all of my stories are male-centric! The Draco Diaries, that Tom Marvolo Riddle one-shot I just uploaded... even the on hiatus Tell Me a Story is told by Edward! Grr!_

_Oh, thank goodness, nevermind! I've got an idea for a pretty long Hedwig tale, so that'll be a relief. Except, of course, that she's not a human. Eh..._

_Katie: My best yet? Thank you, thank you! Was this one swell as well?_

_Shadrac: I tried to inject a bit more emotion by revamping (as I believe the term is) the conversation... Ooh, sounds like a tango move._

_AJ: Hehe, yeah, sorry about taking out any action. But, as I told you before:_ _I'm not going to include a big fight scene between Draco and Harry or anything like that. Didn't mean to deceive you, but that's the way it is. Anywhos, Harry can't kill! He can torture, but never the dreaded Expelliarmus! His soul is worth far more! Also... Don't keep them short! Length is good! Quantity of quality is good! Reviews are heavenly!  
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_My task's done in delivering you this story, but I would still appreciate knowing what you think. So, uh, down there's a little no-longer-green button down that's feelin' lonely...  
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